


Nicknames and Coffee Cups

by indiffrntnewt



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, M/M, Office AU, Slow Burn, ex!brenderesa, minho is the best character as usual, newt is a smug bastard, thomas is a little childish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 54,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24720739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiffrntnewt/pseuds/indiffrntnewt
Summary: "I remember what it was to hate him with the whole of my heart, but I’ve remembered too late."Thomas is up for a big promotion within his company WCKD. He’s put everything on hold for it, including his love life, and has been working for this for years. But when a strange outsider nicknamed Newt is hired instead, Thomas loses it, focusing all his energy on bringing this newcomer down.
Relationships: Ben/Minho (Maze Runner), Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner), Teresa Agnes/Aris Jones, Teresa Agnes/Brenda (Maze Runner)
Comments: 131
Kudos: 185





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first ever maze runner & newtmas book! I'm gonna be updating this every two days or so to give you all the content you need in these boring times. 
> 
> A little clarification before we start: there are some switches to Minho's pov in later chapters, they're all flashbacks. Just to make sure you don't get confused. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Today’s the day, baby!” 

Thomas looked up from his newspaper as Sofia started barking at the intruder in his apartment. A girl walked in, her brown hair cut to her shoulders - _when did she do that? -_ and her arms raised, straining to hold up several bags filled with what seemed to be new clothes. Thomas smiled at her.

“Today’s the day.” 

Brenda grinned at him and threw the bulging plastic bags on the armchair next to his door. Sofia jumped up, greeting her happily, her tail wagging.

“Hello there, cutie,” Brenda said in a high-pitched voice reserved for Sofia only, scratching the dog behind her ears. “Your favourite person is back. _Yes she is!_ ” 

Thomas threw the newspaper on the coffee table, shaking his head at her. He couldn’t believe how affectionate Brenda and Sofia were sometimes. “I’m convinced she’s gonna move in with you one day.” 

“Of course, I’m her favourite,” Brenda said with a smug smile on her face. She walked into Thomas’ kitchen, Sofia swiftly following behind. “Coffee?”

“No thank you,” Thomas said, scrunching up his nose in disgust. “You know I hate it.”

“You’re a slinthead.”

They remained silent while Brenda made coffee for herself, the only sounds in the house being Sofia’s nails on the floor and Brenda rummaging through his cupboards. The newspaper lay abandoned on the small coffee table, very tempting, but Thomas restrained himself from picking it up again, knowing Brenda wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Nervous?” Thomas finally asked, breaking the silence. Brenda visibly tensed up. 

“No,” she replied softly, her voice cracking. “Just angry. And a little relieved.” 

Thomas nodded to her back even though he knew she couldn’t see him. “When’s the lawyer coming over?”

“Her name is Mrs. Barlow,” Brenda said sternly as she turned around with a cup full of black coffee. Her hands shook. “And she’s coming over around four. I should be home alone around that time. She’s usually gone till five.” 

“Should I come?” Thomas asked, worried. He had work until five, but maybe Gally would be nice to him and let him off. Or maybe Minho could cover for him.

Brenda shook her head, a smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just focus on work for now. Today is _your_ day as well. I’ll call you if I need help.” 

She raised her coffee cup with a weak smile on her face. “To getting divorced.”

Thomas smiled back, a stinging pain in his heart. “To getting divorced.”

They ended up spending only about half an hour together, before Thomas had to run to catch his train. Both Brenda and Sofia seemed disappointed to see him go, and he quickly gave in to Brenda’s pleas to let her stay in his apartment for as long as possible. 

“Don’t forget to feed Sofia at ten.”

“Will do.”

“And lock the door when you leave. The one to the balcony as well.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Make sure all the windows are closed.” 

“Mhm.” 

“And clean up after yourself, will you?”

Brenda nodded, rolling her eyes with a small smile on her lips. 

Thomas knew he had to leave, but just stood there, watching her, a sudden grave feeling in his heart. Brenda’s smile faded, apparently having noticed his concern, and she stood up straight. 

“I’m gonna be okay,” she said softly.

Thomas nodded, but he wasn’t convinced. 

The corners of Brenda’s mouth twitched, and next thing he knew, she was pulling him into a tight hug, Sofia circling happily around their feet.

Thomas buried his head in her shoulder. He knew he shouldn’t be worried for her -- Brenda could take care of herself very well and everyone was on her side -- but he couldn’t help but feel like he would come home that evening to terrible news. So, he hugged her tighter, only letting go when she pushed him away with a weak smile, telling him he couldn’t be late for his big day. 

He closed the door with an immense sense of doom coming over him.

—

From the moment Thomas got into high school, he knew what he wanted. His father had always told him to follow his dreams and talents and make at least one of them his job, a piece of advice he took to heart. While his mother was sweet and wanted him to live in the moment a bit more, Thomas always focused on what he wanted to do in the future: to work in a science lab, researching diseases and viruses. His unhinged obsession with chemistry and science often lead to him being the ‘nerd’ in class, but brought him respect and success nonetheless. He didn’t have many friends as a result of that -- obviously, it was high school -- until he and his slightly-older classmate Minho got paired together for a science project. Thomas, being his ambitious and stubborn self, forced the two of them to finish the project within a couple of days, only stopping to sleep and eat. They got an A+. It was only after summer vacation, when they spoke again, that Thomas found out that his hard work and determination had saved Minho from being held back a year. They’d been friends ever since. 

“Tommy-boy!” 

Minho, full of adrenaline (and probably caffeine as well, now that he thought about it) jumped on his back as soon as Thomas entered the WCKD building. Thomas stumbled, taking a few seconds to regain his balance and threw him off, swatting at his head. 

“I told you to stop calling me that,” he said, some sort of annoyance in his voice due to the stupid nickname, but he couldn’t bite back a grin. 

“So?” Minho asked, completely ignoring him, eyes full of anticipation. “Did you talk to Gally?”

Thomas took off his coat and started walking towards the elevator, Minho following behind. “I wish. There’s a meeting this afternoon, though, and I’m invited.” 

Minho laughed energetically, throwing his head back. “Finally! I’m so tired of waiting.” 

Thomas rolled his eyes. “As if it’s been tough on you. _I’m_ the one that has worked for this for years.” 

“Yeah, which means that you’ve been boring for years!” Minho exclaimed, pressing the '2' button on the silver button panel. “I can’t wait until we can finally party together again. I feel like the last time you got absolutely wasted was senior year, which is honestly sad.” 

“I’ve been busy,” Thomas mumbled. It was true -- although he couldn't deny that part of him simply didn’t like being drunk. He usually avoided alcohol as much as possible, even back in college, when getting shitfaced on a Friday night was pretty much the law. 

“Oh my god, you’ll finally be able to date again!” Minho continued. “You haven’t had a girlfriend in… how many years now? Three hundred?” 

“Speak for yourself,” Thomas said, watching the '2' button light up. “I can’t remember the last time you had a serious relationship.” 

“Ouch,” Minho said, placing his hand over his heart. They walked out together, Minho continuing his rant. “That’s different, though. At least I tried.” 

Thomas grinned. “I thought you never had to try your best? Irresistible, right?” 

“Oh, shut up, you shank.”

“You’re late, get to work!” A loud voice boomed, turning Thomas’ insides cold. Something about Gally made his skin crawl, despite his continuous efforts to like his boss. 

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said, turning around to enter the office he shared with Minho. Minho saluted. “Ahoy, mister.”

Gally rolled his eyes and walked away, clearly not in the mood.

“Anyway,” Thomas continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “you’re right, I haven’t gone out in years. Once I finally do get it sorted out, though, I promise you we’ll get wasted at my apartment and you can even call a stripper for me, I don’t care.”

“That’s my boy.”

—

Around lunchtime, Thomas had had enough. His brain was overworked, his hands were sweaty and he was endlessly annoying Minho -- and that said a lot. Minho, always full of energy, was never bothered by Thomas’ distractions, maybe even grateful for them. Despite the huge smile on his face as soon as they entered WCKD, he’d always preferred messing around with Thomas to working all day. 

“Dude, get something to drink,” Minho suggested when Thomas’ bouncing leg hit the table hard and knocked over his water bottle. “Tea, water, vodka even, I don’t care. Just something to keep yourself busy.”

Thomas usually hated taking breaks once he was at work, but was now grateful when the cold air hit his lungs outside the tall glass building. People passed him in hurried paces, not bothering to pay any attention to him, contrary to his colleagues on the second floor. He loved them, he really did, but they were a true pain in the ass sometimes. 

He reached inside his coat, taking out a cigarette and carefully lighting it with a lighter. 

“You know, that’s gonna kill you one day.” 

Thomas turned around, meeting the eyes of an attractive young man, probably a year or two younger than him, his skin so pale it seemed to glow in the harsh light. Although his face seemed young, he towered over Thomas, his blond hair falling into his face due to the strong wind outside. He was holding a cigarette as well, Thomas noticed. It was almost burned up.

“Speak for yourself,” he said, nodding towards the man’s left hand. “Aren’t you a little too young to smoke?”

The man definitely looked older than twenty-one, but Thomas couldn’t help but take the piss out of him. Something in the stranger’s face told him he wouldn’t mind.

The stranger smirked and took a drag of his cigarette. “I’m twenty-six, thank you very much.”

His voice was laced with a thick London accent, but that’s not what surprised Thomas. 

“Twenty-six? I would’ve guessed around twenty.”

“I get that a lot.” 

The man didn’t continue speaking, just smiled at him, his eyes twinkling with joy. They reminded him a bit of Brenda’s hair colour that one time she tried to dye it a lighter colour for her birthday, without listening to Thomas’ advice to bleach it first. It had come out a mix between black, brown and honey. Thomas’ gift for her that year was a trip to the salon.

“You don’t sound like you’re from around here,” Thomas said to break the silence. He had the unexplainable urge to continue the conversation, even though he was usually an anxious mess every time he met someone new. He blamed it on the accent - it was soothing, in a way. 

“Neither do you,” was the handsome Brit’s quick response. Thomas’ cheeks flushed and he found himself a little intimidated by the older man, but tried not to let it show. 

“I’m from New York, well-spotted,” he explained, keeping his voice as steady as he could. “Although I must admit I’m a little confused. I still think the only Americans with actual accents are southerners. But maybe I’m just stupid.” He shrugged.

The man shook his head, taking another drag from his cigarette before throwing it on the concrete and putting it out with his foot. 

“You all have accents. It’s easy to notice when you move around a lot.”

He looked directly into Thomas’ eyes for a second, as if studying him, then down at his watch. “I should go. But it was nice to meet you.”

He turned around, clearly intending to go back into the tall building, and Thomas felt a strange sense of loss. Not being able to hold himself back, he yelled after him. 

“Wait! What’s your name?”

The man turned around, a small smile resting on his lips. “Newt.”

Thomas exhaled deeply after hearing that, almost out of breath. “I’m Thomas.”

“Alright. Nice to meet you, Tommy.”

And with that, he turned around and entered the building through the glass sliding doors, leaving Thomas behind in the cold air.

—

When he got back, Minho scrunched up his nose in disgust. 

“Dude, did you go smoke again?”

Thomas shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I told you to get yourself a drink! Besides, smoking is gross.”

Thomas sat down at his desk, choosing to ignore that last comment. 

“I met a stranger.”

Minho raised his eyebrows in surprise, but his face showed that he wasn’t buying Thomas’ not-so-smooth attempt to change the subject. “A stranger?”

“I think he works here,” Thomas said quietly, trying to see if Gally was watching them. “But I’ve never seen him before.” 

Minho shrugged. “Could be. Lots of people work here, I bet we don’t know half of them.”

Then, he grinned. “He hot?”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Minho -”

“Just asking!”

Thomas thought back to the conversation, to his eyes and hair that miraculously stayed in style, despite the hard wind. It was fascinating. He should ask him what type of hair gel he used. The dark brown eyes flashed in his mind and he blinked, trying to pull himself back to real life.

“Yeah. I guess he’s hot.” 

Minho clapped him on his back. “Well done Thomas, well done.”

The speaker in the corner of the room suddenly came to life; it beeped and cracked and then, a female voice spoke. 

“Meeting on the second floor, room 30A in thirty minutes. Check your email to see if you’re expected. I repeat -”

A rush of anxiety came over Thomas, and he swallowed. Minho’s smile had disappeared, was now replaced by a concerned look on his face. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be alright. Okay?”

Thomas glanced at him and then back at the speaker, nodding absentmindedly. 

_It’s gonna be alright._

—

To his surprise, he ran into Newt again in front of Gally’s office. The blond was now holding a cup of tea that smelled strongly of mint and smiled at him politely. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

“Uh, yeah,” Thomas said, flustered for no reason as Newt looked down at him. “I’m invited to the meeting.”

“Me too,” Newt said, taking a sip of his tea. Thomas frowned. 

“You?”

Newt didn’t answer, just nodded. A part of Thomas wanted to ask why, but then Gally opened the door, his usual scowl plastered on his face like a mask, and Thomas’ knees almost buckled with anxiety. 

“Come in,” he said to no one in particular. He stepped backwards, his back pressed against the grey door, and frowned at the table. Thomas, being the one closest to the door, stepped forward into the room, his shoulder brushing past Gally’s. 

The room was wide and bright, several ceiling-height windows filling the wall opposite of the door, showing the beautiful view of Denver, tall mountains rising up behind the many buildings. A long, light brown table was set in the middle of the room, surrounded by soft-looking, black chairs. On the wall to his left hung a big tv, facing the bulletin board filled with many notes on the opposite wall. 

As the room started to fill with WCKD employees, Thomas searched for a place to sit. In front of the bulletin board stood the tallest chair of them all, which Thomas knew belonged to Gally. He didn’t think of himself as his closest friend, so he didn’t consider sitting down near that chair, but he was on friendly terms with Gally, so he knew not to sit down too far away from him either. Before he knew it, almost everyone had taken a seat, and he rushed to sit down on Gally’s right side, only a couple of chairs away. Next to him sat a dark-skinned girl he knew was called Harriet, and directly to Gally’s left, as if they were friends, sat Newt. He looked away when Newt caught his eye, choosing to politely smile at Harriet instead. 

“Right,” Gally said when everyone had sat down. He nodded at a red-haired woman sitting to Thomas’ left, who stood up and closed the door. 

Everyone was quiet as Gally took out a notebook and one of the company’s pens, scribbling something down. Thomas remembered when they first gave all the employees those pens - Minho had smiled brightly at the woman handing them out, and had then leaned over to Thomas, whispering: “These are the ugliest shuckin’ things I’ve ever seen.”

He smiled at the memory, ignoring the weird look Gally threw him. 

“I’d check if everyone was present, but it really doesn’t matter,” Gally mumbled. “Chairs are all filled anyway.”

He stood up, as if trying to appear more intimidating, and continued. “Couple things on the agenda today. I don’t feel like holding any of you back from working, so if I’ve discussed everything I need with you, you’re dismissed. Okay?”

There was a chorus of “Okay, sir’s” and a couple people nodded. Thomas sat still, too nervous to do anything. 

Gally scraped his throat and looked down at his notebook. 

“First - promotions.”

Thomas sat up straight, another rush of anxiety going through him. 

“I’d discuss this in private on any other occasion, but this is something that is relevant to many people. Hence why I’m doing it here.” 

_Just hurry up already,_ Thomas thought. All he wanted was to get out of there. The room seemed to press down on him, filling his lungs with burning oxygen. 

“Many of you have been applying for the job of Research Associate, since Vince left,” he started.

Thomas was tempted to say he’d been working towards that position since he graduated, not since Vince left, but bit his tongue to stop himself from talking. Interrupting the boss was never a good idea, especially not if you wanted to get a good promotion. 

“I’m here to tell you that we’ve finally found a perfect guy for the job.” 

Thomas leaned forward, his heart beating rapidly and his knees shaking. This was it. This was the job he’d wanted for so long. Now that the moment finally was here, he almost teared up. 

Gally turned to his left. “Meet Newton Isaacs. He’s going to be taking over the job as our Research Associate. ‘Course, we’re going to need more than one eventually, but for now, he’ll do the job.”

Thomas stared, dumbfounded. He was still leaning forward, his hands gripping the armrests of the chair, frozen in place. Newt. _Newt? Fucking Newt got it?_

He watched as the blond stood up, easily towering over Gally, making their boss look a lot less intimidating. Next to Gally’s short, buff build, Newt looked even taller and lankier than before.

“It’s Newt,” he said, his voice full of confidence, even after rudely correcting Gally. Thomas involuntarily held his breath - there was no way Gally would accept that kind of behaviour. 

But then their boss smiled, a rare sight. “Newt. I’m sorry to everyone who wanted this job -” Was he looking at Thomas? “- there’ll be something else for you all. You’re dismissed.”

Thomas sat in silence, clenching his jaw, hoping either of them would spontaneously combust. Around him, he could hear people standing up, muttering to themselves, probably about Newt and Gally. His heartbeat had calmed down, his grip on the chair was weakening, yet he’d never felt this upset before. Just minutes ago, he’d comfortably talked to the blond, liked him even. The thought of it disgusted him now. A crushing pain filled his entire body. _All that work. Gone._

“You’re dismissed,” Gally repeated. He was definitely looking at Thomas now. 

Not wanting to show his disappointment, Thomas got up quickly, walking towards the door in a fast pace. He opened the door, already seeing Minho wait for him, and turned around once again to glare at both Gally and Newt. Deep down inside, he felt childish for doing so, but his pain and anger had taken over. 

He made sure to slam the door on his way out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you doing here?” He managed to get out after wordlessly staring at her for almost a minute. 
> 
> “Going for a walk,” she said, as if it was the most logical thing in the world. 
> 
> “This is a dog park. You don’t have a dog.”

The next few days were filled with a sense of loss he’d never felt before. Minho’s constant attempts to cheer him up, although well-intentioned, didn’t help at all. They mostly consisted of him asking Thomas to go out (“At least you have nothing to worry about anymore?”), telling Thomas Gally might promote him later (“I mean, the guy obviously hates you, but you’re one of his best employees!”) and suggesting they both just quit altogether (“That’s what he gets for treating you like that! The shuckin’ place will fall apart without us.”). Thomas, although grateful for his support, sometimes wished Minho would just leave him alone. His best friend was a great guy, but all Thomas wanted was to spend the rest of his life hiding under his gigantic, fluffy couch blanket. 

“Come on dude, you can’t just sit here and sulk forever!” Minho exclaimed desperately on Friday, after Thomas rejected his idea to get, in his words, ‘absolutely shuckin’ wasted’. 

“I’m not sulking,” Thomas said, frowning. “I’m planning my revenge on that Newt guy.”

Minho rolled his eyes, clearly fed up with his attitude. Thomas almost felt sorry for him. 

Almost. 

“Again? What did he do?”

“Exist,” Thomas grumbled, and he felt his cheeks warm up in embarrassment, knowing how pathetic he probably sounded. 

Minho groaned. “Please. He can’t help it.”

Thomas glared at him, throwing as much hatred as he could into the look. Minho, however, wasn’t intimidated. He mostly looked sorry for him.

“Fine,” he said, getting up from his lazy position on Thomas’ old couch. “Me and Brenda will just go out together. She’s bringing me to see this local band live. _Without_ you, I might add.”

Thomas simply groaned, pulling the blanket over his head. 

He could hear Minho sigh at him, and deep down inside he felt a tug at his heart, but then his friend had already left, quietly closing the door behind him. 

At seven, Thomas fell asleep. His dreams were filled with blond hair, angry faces and voices telling him he wasn’t good enough for the job. He woke up sweating, and threw his blanket off of him as if it’d burned him. 

At eight, he started to get hungry. He considered ordering in, but as soon as he picked up his phone, he saw he had several missed calls from Brenda and Minho, so he threw his phone back on the couch, burying it in his ruffled up blanket.

By nine, staying on the couch wasn’t as appealing anymore. His stomach grumbled, his back hurt, and most importantly, he was jealous of Minho for being out tonight. 

Getting up and stretching his back, he decided on two things: 

  1. He was going for a run
  2. He _would_ get his revenge on this Newt guy, no matter what



Encouraged by this tiny bit of energy, Thomas swiftly changed into running clothes, Sofia’s eyes following his every move. At the door, he turned to her, a smile on his face. 

“Wanna go for a walk?”

—

Despite the beautiful weather that day, it was quieter than usual at the dog park. Thomas didn’t give it much thought, deciding to blame it on the local band performing that night. On his way to the dog park, he’d seen many bikes and cars parked in front of the Homestead, where he knew they always played at. He didn’t know them, but Brenda loved them, which is why he wasn’t surprised she’d convinced Minho to go see them with her. 

He slowed down to a jog near the small lake in the middle of the park, bending over to unhook the leash from Sofia’s collar. Wagging her tail, she took off to chase after some birds. 

Thomas checked his watch. Nine thirty. He debated on whether he should stay here and run back home after a while, or run a lap through the park with Sofia and walk home. Deciding that he’d much rather be seen running through a dog park than over the busy roads in Denver, he whistled to Sofia and fastened his pace again. 

If there was one thing Thomas loved almost as much as science, it was running. He loved the ecstatic feeling it gave him, getting rid of almost all of his worries effortlessly. He had joined the track team as soon as he entered high school, convincing Minho to join him in sophomore year. Running was one of the few things he actually liked and was also good at. 

He ran faster than he usually did, intending to get all thoughts of Newt and his job out of his mind as soon as possible. It worked -- for the most part. It was still there, lingering in the back of his mind.

At least, until he saw her. 

Sofia came to a halt even before he did, baring her teeth at the dark-haired woman. Even though it was dark due to the time and the trees towering over the grassy park, he could see it was undoubtedly her. 

Teresa.

She’d seen him as well, approaching him before he could even think of what to do. Sofia growled at her, but she simply ignored it. Thomas, frozen in place, didn’t give Sofia the sign to attack (not that he would have. Teresa definitely would have sued him). 

“Hello, Tom.”

Thomas blinked, not knowing what to say to her. She looked more mature than the last time he’d seen her -- five, six months ago? She also looked more tired. It wasn’t a good look on her.

“What are you doing here?” He managed to get out after wordlessly staring at her for almost a minute. 

“Going for a walk,” she said, as if it was the most logical thing in the world. 

“This is a dog park. You don’t have a dog.”

She simply smiled, her face showing that she wasn’t going to answer his unasked question. 

He composed himself, standing up straight so he was taller than her. 

“Why are you talking to me? Sure Aris is okay with that?”

He hadn’t meant for it to come out so viciously, but he wasn’t sorry. His sharp voice caused her to flinch. It was the most emotion he’d seen her show in a very long time. 

“I..” She looked down, clearly unsure of herself. 

Thomas huffed and turned around, ready to walk away, when she spoke up again. 

“I wanted to know how Brenda was doing.” 

Anger flared up inside him, and he turned around so fast he even surprised himself. He scrunched his face up in disgust. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” He said, his voice calmer than expected. Teresa didn’t reply, simply stared at him with a mixture of fear and pain on her face. 

Thomas huffed out an emotionless laugh. 

“Don’t you - you can’t -”

“Tom -”

“No!” He cut her off, stepping forward threateningly. “You can’t do this, Teresa. You don’t have the right.”

She shuffled backwards, more scared than sad now. Thomas considered stepping back, but chose against it. 

_Good,_ he thought. _Be afraid._

“You know what you did to her,” he said quietly. “So don’t fucking come here and ask how she’s doing. You hear me? Don’t ever talk to me again. Or her.”

And with that, he turned around and walked away, Sofia following quickly. 

—

When Minho didn’t come into the office that Monday, Thomas didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t the first time he missed a day of work and Thomas knew it wouldn’t be the last. Minho, as smart as he was, regularly took days off to clear his mind and get away from the pressure of due dates and meetings with grumpy bosses. Thomas worked through the day without a single worry on his mind, apart from his new-found passion for getting revenge on Newt. 

In the week that had passed, Thomas had concluded that this all had been Newt’s fault. He’d heard from several of his colleagues on the second floor that Newt had moved here not too long ago and this was his first job in the United States. The guy seemed nice enough, always smiling at everyone in the hallway and greeting Thomas with a “Good morning, Tommy!” and a “Good evening, Tommy,” any time they crossed paths when entering or leaving the building. 

Still, Thomas hated his guts. It seemed like no matter what Newt did, he annoyed Thomas in some kind of way. He was too quiet, too calm and worst of all, he had a stupid, smug grin, that just told Thomas _I took your job because you weren’t good enough._

As much as he liked his job as a simple data analyst, it had never been his dream job, and he’d been so close to finally reaching his dreams, just to have it taken away by this new guy. This _stupid, arrogant_ and most of all, _annoying_ new guy. Thomas hated him. He really, really hated him. 

When Minho didn’t show up on Tuesday, either, Thomas started to get worried. Deciding not to get distracted by this sudden change, he left a couple of messages and focused on how to ruin Newt’s life yet again. The blond seemed to have a very specific routine like the boring asshole Thomas knew him to be. At eight thirty in the morning, he’d enter the WCKD building (“Good morning, Tommy!”) with a coffee cup in one hand and a bag in the other. He’d work until ten. Then, a smoke break, followed by two hours of vanishing completely, until he showed up again for lunch at twelve. The next few hours were filled with Newt appearing and disappearing at random moments, until Thomas passed his office to go home at five (“Good evening, Tommy,”) and he followed him out of the building, never quite having a conversation with him, but also not ignoring him completely -- something Thomas, on the other hand, was trying very hard to do. They’d separate outside of the building, Newt getting into his car ( _A mini? Really?_ ) while Thomas walked his way towards the train station. The routine hadn’t changed for the past week. At all. Thomas was starting to think Newt was a bit of a control freak. 

Minho didn’t show up on Wednesday either, nor did he reply to any of Thomas’ messages. It was worrisome -- even when they fought, Minho would at least show some signs he was alive. Not that that happened often, which is why Thomas found himself at Minho’s door that afternoon, holding a bag of doughnuts and a cup of coffee, desperately wishing he hadn’t fucked up somehow. If Minho really was mad at him ( _why, though?)_ Thomas had to at least try to make it up to him somehow. 

He knocked on the door, anxiously biting his lips. Why would Minho disappear like that? Sure, Thomas had been distant, but that was understandable, right? 

He couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed -- if Minho was really mad, it would be for a stupid reason. Thomas knew for a fact that his best friend wouldn’t react any different if he’d been in his place. 

“Coming,” spoke a muffled voice from the other side of the door. Thomas let out a breath in relief; Minho didn’t sound mad, or annoyed. 

The door swung open and Thomas was met with a sight he’d rarely ever seen before. Minho was wearing grey sweatpants and an oversized black sweater and he looked more tired than ever before. For some reason, the clothes were what unsettled Thomas the most. In all the years he’d known Minho, he’d never seen him wearing such casual clothes before. As if he had made no effort to do anything -- which was concerning. 

“Hi.”

His voice was hoarse. Glancing at Minho’s messy hair, Thomas realized he probably just woke up. 

Thomas raised his eyebrows. “Rough night?”

Minho only hummed in response, clearly still half-asleep. He stepped back, letting Thomas in. 

Thomas walked into his spacious apartment with a nauseous feeling, setting the coffee and doughnuts down on the kitchen table, lazily throwing his coat on a chair. 

Minho followed behind, yawning loudly. He hadn’t even bothered to close the door. 

Thomas quickly walked back, locking it just in case. When he turned back, he was relieved to see Minho grin at him. 

“Still paranoid, I see.”

Thomas scoffed. “Just because you don’t mind your apartment being broken into…”

Minho sat down, obviously not listening to him. He reached out into the bag of doughnuts and took one, closing his eyes as he took a bite. Thomas only stared. 

Deciding it was best to sit down with him, Thomas joined him at the kitchen table. Minho gave no sign he’d seen him at all. 

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked carefully, not wanting to annoy the boy or overstep any boundaries. 

Minho looked at him and shrugged. “Nothing. Why?”

“Why? _Why?_ ” Thomas asked, a sense of desperation coming over him. “You haven’t been to work in days! I’ve sent you about a million text messages!” 

“Hm.” 

Thomas sighed, leaning back into the hard chair. 

“You don’t usually behave like this. I’m worried. Did I do something?”

Minho looked up at that, meeting his eyes for the first time. It struck Thomas how alive they seemed behind his mask of tiredness. 

“No, you shank. You didn’t do anything,” he said, rubbing his face with his hand.

“Then what happened?” Thomas urged on. “Are you okay?”

Minho let out a laugh. He took another bite of the doughnut and then reached out for the coffee that stood between them. 

Thomas grabbed it just before he could. Minho glared at him. 

“Give me that.” 

Thomas shook his head. “Tell me what’s wrong first.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Minho said, sounding annoyed. “I just didn’t feel like working and I haven’t been checking my phone. Now give me my coffee.” 

“Technically, it’s mine,” Thomas replied. “I bought it. I should drink it.”

Minho simply stared at him, eyebrows raised, his arm stretched out. After trying to be stern for a few moments, Thomas gave in, handing him the coffee. Minho gripped it so tightly Thomas thought the veins in his arms were going to burst. 

“What happened?” Thomas asked, after giving him a few minutes. Minho frowned at the coffee. Okay, his veins were _definitely_ about to burst. 

“‘M fine,” the other boy replied. “Just don’t feel like working, that’s all.” 

Thomas studied his face. He didn’t seem to be lying, but there was something there. _Something._

“Why?”

Minho shrugged again, leaving it at that. He took another sip. 

Then, a phone rang, startling them both. Knowing he’d left his at the office, Thomas looked around for Minho’s -- but the boy had already found it somewhere. 

Looking at the screen, his expression shifted from grumpy to cheerful, and then embarrassed. Thomas leaned over to see who it was, but Minho hid the phone from his sight, smiling slightly. 

“I really have to take this, Thomas,” he said. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant. I’ll be there tomorrow, alright?”

Thomas nodded, confused. Minho stood up, looking back at him over his shoulder. “Thank you for coming over. I appreciate it.” 

“Of course -” Thomas started, but then Minho had walked away, phone pressed to his ear as if it was a lifeline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slowburn, slowburn, slowburn, and did i mention slowburn? buckle up lads, you're in for a long ride :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well then, you think of something!”
> 
> “You’re not even trying,” Thomas huffed. Minho raised his eyebrows at him. 
> 
> “Well, shuck me for not wanting to kill our new Research Associate.”

Minho kept true to his promise, showing up at work the next day as if nothing had happened. Gally acknowledged him with a nod and even Newt seemed to recognize he’d been absent (“Good morning, Tommy - Minho, you’re back?”). Thomas, not in the mood to talk to Newt, had continued walking as Minho stopped to make a conversation, rolling his eyes when Thomas glared at him. 

“You’re being childish, you know,” Minho said once he came upstairs, which just earned him another glare. 

“You’re my best friend, you’re supposed to support me in this,” Thomas said. 

“Oh yes,” Minho replied with another eye roll, “Please, tell me how we’re going to make this boy’s life hard for - existing, was it?”

Thomas hit him with a stack of paper. 

Despite Minho’s protests, Thomas eventually convinced him to help him with his plans. It took a lot of pleading and eye rolls -- from Minho’s side -- but eventually, Minho gave in, although he still wasn’t exactly  _ helpful.  _

“So, what are you gonna do?” He asked, not hiding the obvious sarcasm in his voice. “Pull his pants down in front of everyone and throw toilet paper all over his house?”

“No,” Thomas said, agitated. “Well -”

“Don’t,” Minho interrupted and Thomas grinned. 

“I was just going to say you probably wouldn’t mind if I pulled his pants down,” Thomas said. “You did ask me if he was hot.”

Minho shook his head, chuckling slightly. “No, I’ve moved on from that. He’s good-looking, sure, I’m just not attracted to him.”

Thomas raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Am I hearing this right? Is Minho Park moving on from someone without fucking them first? ”

Minho slapped the back of his head. “Slim it, will you? I’m not that shallow.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

Gally walked by, glaring at them when he saw them huddled together. 

“Get some work done, will you?” He said. It wasn’t a question. 

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said. Minho just nodded. 

He waited until Gally had disappeared into his office before he spoke again. 

“I just want to get some revenge. Somehow.”

Minho shrugged. “Put salt in his coffee.”

“That’s lame.”

“Well then, you think of something!”

“You’re not even trying,” Thomas huffed. Minho raised his eyebrows at him. 

“Well, shuck me for not wanting to kill our new Research Associate.”

Thomas turned his back on him, tired of the conversation already. Behind him, he heard Minho sigh dramatically. 

“Listen, Thomas,” he said, “Newt’s an alright dude. Just because he got the job you wanted doesn’t mean you should fuck up his life.”

Thomas ignored him, feeling himself get more and more annoyed at his best friend. 

“Just leave it,” he grumbled, watching as Newt stepped out of the elevator and walked back to his office -- Thomas checked his watch, it was indeed ten a.m. The blond seemed to sense his stare, because he looked up when he closed the door, eyes resting on Thomas before smiling and closing the door softly. Anger flared up inside Thomas -- why couldn’t Newt just ignore him? Any contact, even eye contact, was too much contact in Thomas’ opinion.

Fuck, he hated the guy. 

—

“So, Tommy.”

Thomas looked up from the coffee machine in surprise. Newt was standing next to him, a smirk on his face, his arms folded. 

He checked his watch -- it was only three. 

“What is it?” He asked, unable to hide his confusion. Even though Newt greeted him happily every day, they hadn’t had an actual conversation after that one unfortunate Monday, when they first met. 

Newt ran a hand through his hair, an annoying habit that Thomas realized he had after only a few days of observing him.

“Gally emailed me, there’s a meeting next Monday. Just the two of us. And him, ‘course.”

Thomas frowned, confused. He hadn’t heard of such a thing. Despite his strong dislike of his boss, he couldn’t help but feel a little hurt and embarrassed that he’d sent Newt to tell him this, instead of emailing Thomas himself. Especially considering Gally probably knew he didn’t like Newt -- Thomas hadn’t bothered to hide it at all.

“So?” Thomas asked. 

Newt raised his eyebrows. “He didn’t mention a time to me. I was just gonna ask him, but then I saw you and figured you’d probably know.”

So Gally hadn’t sent him as a messenger. Thomas felt himself swell with pride and he grabbed the coffee Minho had ordered him to make. 

“Sure, I’ll just -”

He took out his phone with the hand that wasn’t holding a coffee cup, struggling to unlock it with just one hand. 

“Here.” 

Before he knew it, Newt had taken the cup, holding it for him. Thomas raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. 

_ Jesus, who did this guy think he was? As if Thomas couldn’t take care of himself. _

He unlocked his phone and opened his Gmail, refreshing it several times to see that Gally had indeed sent him a short email. 

**Thomas,**

**Meeting next Monday. 9 am. Don’t be late.**

**Gally.**

Thomas wasn’t surprised at the curtness of the mail, but more at the fact that Gally had apparently sent both of them different emails. 

“So?” Newt asked. “Did he mention a time?”

Thomas looked up, an evil plan forming in his head. 

_ He shouldn’t.  _

He did. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Ten a.m.”

Newt smiled sincerely, handing him back the cup. “Thanks, Tommy. Enjoy your coffee.”

“Oh, it’s -” Thomas started, but Newt had already walked away, a slight limp making his pace uneven. 

—

_ Friday, 7:43 P.M.  _

**_Minho_ **

They were running late. Minho had spent way too much time trying to convince Thomas to go out, and now they were running late, Brenda cursing at him with every step they took. 

“I’m sorry,” Minho said for what felt like the millionth time. 

“Whatever,” Brenda said, visibly annoyed at him. “Just run!”

They passed many confused people, Brenda dragging him along by his wrist even though he was faster than her, showing him the way. Every few minutes, she’d look back, cheeks flushed and breathing ragged, to tell him they were almost there. Minho believed her every time, and it was never true. 

After what felt like an eternity, Brenda slowed down, brushing her bangs out of her face. 

“We’re here,” she puffed out, trying to catch her breath. 

They stood in front of a tall building that could easily have been just another house if it hadn’t been for the gigantic neon letters above the front door. 

_ The Homestead,  _ it said. Minho grinned. 

“You could’ve just told me we were going here,” He said. “I thought you were going to kidnap me for a good thirty minutes.”

Brenda rolled her eyes. “Wanted to keep it a surprise.” 

Minho stared at her, dumbfounded. “You already told me we were going to see the Gladers. Yesterday.”

Brenda simply glared at him and grabbed his arm, pulling him along into the tall building. Inside, there were no walls at all, like there would have been in a normal house. Instead, there was a bar to his right, bathrooms to his left and a rickety stage in front of him, a glass door to its left the only other way out. He didn’t see a staircase leading to the second floor, but he figured there must be one behind the tall curtains that hung from the ceiling to his right. 

The place was filled with people from mostly around his age, but he spotted a few people that were definitely too young -- or too old -- to be there and grinned. 

“Looks like we weren’t the last college students to sneak in here,” he said, pointing to a group of people so young they couldn’t have been more out of place.

“Yeah,” Brenda said, but Minho doubted she’d paid much attention to what he’d said. Her eyes were trained on a guy sitting at the bar; a tall, olive-skinned guy with a mop of light brown hair on his head. 

“That’s Aris,” she whispered, a horrified look on her face. 

Minho put his hands on her shoulders, turning her away from the bar. “Guess we’re not drinking tonight.”

“You’re not drinking? What a shame, you’re gonna need some alcohol if you wanna survive listening to Frypan’s voice. Sometimes I wonder why I’m in this band with him,” someone spoke up behind him. Minho turned around, surprised someone had approached him in the relatively busy room. 

It was a guy Minho had never seen before, but Brenda’s face showed recognition. 

“Ben,” she breathed out, a mixture between tense and relieved. 

“Brenda,” the guy said and he stepped forward to give her a short hug. Minho simply stood and stared. Ben had blond hair and pale skin, a slight stubble growing on his chin. One look into his eyes told Minho they were both a different colour - green and blue, as far as he could tell in this lighting. 

Ben turned towards him. “And you are?”

“Minho,” he said, unsure of what to do with himself. Eventually, he settled on extending his arm, going in for a handshake, but Ben grabbed his hand, pulled him in and hugged him as well, even though they’d never met before.

“Good to see you, Minho,” Ben said as he let go. “You’re Brenda’s friend, hm? She’s told me a lot about you.”

“You two know each other?” Minho asked, instead of answering the question. 

Brenda nodded. “I’ve been a fan for ages and we ran into each other a couple months ago.”

Minho nodded, his mouth suddenly dry. 

“You know, I think I might actually need a drink,” he said, intending to leave them and give them some space to catch up, but Ben followed, dragging Brenda along despite her protests. 

“Listen,” Ben said as they approached the bartender. “You’ve gotta impress him. Be hot, be confident. Show him you were the best thing Teresa ever had, make sure he questions why she chose him instead. Sleep with the bartender to prove him a point, if that’s what it takes.”

Brenda looked as if she might throw up and Minho sighed, turning back around. 

“Want me to do this for you?” He asked. Brenda looked up at him, a sudden stubbornness coming over her face. 

“I don’t need you to protect me.”

“I wasn’t trying to protect you,” Minho said, but he couldn’t hold back a smile. “Just making sure.” 

Brenda scoffed, all the fear having disappeared from her eyes. 

“Easy, boys. I’ve got this.” 

She walked past them and Minho shot a short smile at Ben. 

“Always works.”

“I’m impressed,” the other man said before gently taking his shoulder and moving both of them towards the bar. 

—

Ben left the two of them alone after about half an hour, saying he needed to prepare himself for his performance. Minho was sorry to see him go, but also excited to see him play. Ben had told him he played the guitar, something Minho genuinely admired. 

“You like him,” Brenda said, bringing the straw of her drink towards her lips to take a sip. Minho looked at her, an eyebrow raised. 

“Sure,” He said, knowing lying would be useless. Brenda could always see right through him. “He’s cute.” 

Brenda frowned. “I approve. As long as you don’t leave him after one night.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Minho protested weakly, but he knew he wasn’t believable. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had a serious, long-term relationship himself. 

“I’m serious, Minho,” Brenda said, all hints of joy having left her face. “Ben’s my friend, if you hurt him I  _ will  _ kill you.”

“I won’t!” Minho said, holding his hands up in defence. “You know I never lead people on. I always tell them it’s just going to be a one-night thing.”

Brenda rolled her eyes. “I know, that’s not what I’m afraid of. Ben’s… sensitive. Genuine. He  _ cares  _ about people, wants a real bond with people, and if you leave him alone after one night, he will get hurt. Doesn’t matter if you lead him on or not.”

Minho shrugged. “Fine. I’ll leave him alone, then.” 

Brenda eyed him suspiciously, but had no time to reply, because suddenly, the lights in the room went out, leaving only one on to shine at the stage, and loud music started playing. 

To say Ben was good was… an understatement. Minho was sure he’d never seen anyone play music with such a passion before, completely caught up in his instrument, not bothered by the crowd once, just living in the moment, completely carefree as they played song after song, Frypan’s voice blending perfectly with the chords Ben played. After three songs, when Minho was finally able to tear his eyes away from the blond, he noticed two more people in the band; a curly-haired blond boy playing the drums, and a dark-skinned boy with jet-black hair playing the piano. They all looked around Minho’s age, if not older. 

Next to him, Brenda was singing along softly, swinging from left to right, holding her drink to her chest with both hands. Minho understood why. The music they made was something he wouldn’t usually listen to, but it was  _ good.  _ He found himself nodding along as well. If only he knew the lyrics.

At some point, the two of them had been able to push themselves forward, now standing near the stage, the black curtains swishing against them every now and then. Brenda was still singing, Minho was still staring, and then, just when he thought he could live in this moment forever, the music stopped. 

He stared as they left the stage one by one, only snapping out of his daze when Brenda threw her arm around his shoulder. 

“Awesome, right?”

Minho grinned. 

—

Ben led them upstairs. Minho had been right - the staircase was hidden behind the curtains. It led to a big open space filled with soft-looking couches, a tall fridge and a gigantic TV. 

“Welcome to the VIP-room,” Ben grinned. “Only reserved for staff of the Homestead and the artists that perform there. Today, that’s us. It’s usually us.”

Minho turned in a circle, taking it all in. The entire room was made of light wooden walls and thin, white curtains hung in front of the windows. In the middle of the room, a huge chandelier hung from the ceiling, which Minho now saw was also the roof, two wooden walls rising diagonally until they met in the middle. There was a ladder on the far left of the TV, leading up to a small, open platform with a low fence. Minho couldn’t quite see what was up there -- not that it mattered. All in all, it looked very Scandinavian, and Minho wondered if he’d somehow magically travelled to a different continent. 

“It’s huge,” Brenda said, craning her neck to stare at the chandelier. “And expensive, probably.”

Ben grinned. “Probably. Don’t know who pays for it all. Some big boss.”

Minho pointed to the platform by the ladder. “What’s up there?”

Ben smiled at him. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

“I should probably go, actually,” Brenda suddenly said, interrupting their conversation. “Gonna go check up on Thomas, make sure he doesn’t cry himself to sleep.” She rolled her eyes, but her face was serious. “But you two have fun.”

She glared at Minho, as if to say  _ not too much fun.  _ Minho smirked.

—

Minho learned that all the members of the Gladers were nice, but annoying. As much as he liked spending time with them, they kept interrupting his conversations with Ben, so he couldn’t say he was sorry to see them all go, one by one. Finally, after Zart the drummer left (it might’ve been three, four in the morning, Minho honestly couldn’t tell), they were alone, and Ben took him up to the platform. 

It wasn’t much, just a wooden floor hanging over the room, but it was spacious and bright and filled with mattresses and pillows. 

“Wow,” was all Minho could say. 

“Yeah,” Ben said, laying down. “I come up here all the time. It’s very peaceful.”

“It is.”

“Kinda gives me time to think,” Ben said as Minho laid down next to him. “I wrote a couple of songs up here.”

Minho hummed in reply, staring at the ceiling. He could see Ben’s head turn out of the corner of his eyes, and moved his head to look at him. 

“So, Minho,” Ben said, smirking. Minho noticed once again how his eyes were different colours (bright green and a light blue. It was fascinating). 

“Tell me about yourself.”

—

He didn’t know how it happened, but at some point, they ended up on the floor together, Minho’s hands all over him, his hands in Minho’s hair, kissing as if it was the last thing they could do. He felt himself slowly lose control, but he didn’t mind at all. 

Ben somehow ended up in his lap, softly kissing his neck and travelling downward, and before Minho lost himself in the other boy, he had one final, sane thought. 

_ I’m sorry, Brenda.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, thomas...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah?” he asked, turning to face him. He faked a smile, hoping the blond would buy it.
> 
> Newt folded his arms, studying his face for a second before speaking up. “You don’t like me.”

_ Monday, 4:12 AM. _

**_Thomas_ **

It was four in the morning when Brenda showed up on his doorstep, holding a bag in one hand, her phone clutched in the other. The bag was unzipped; clothes threatened to spill out, only being held inside by a belt tightly wrapped around them. 

“Brenda?”

Before he could say anything else, she broke down.

"Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, shuffling her inside, but his heart hurt, because it was in fact,  _ not okay  _ at all. Not if she was crying like this.

“She kicked me out,” Brenda said in between sobs. Thomas’ heart sank. 

“What?”

Brenda nodded furiously, wiping the tears away with the hand holding her phone. “I - I told her about the lawyer and she just -”

She made a hopeless gesture with her arms and a stabbing pain went through Thomas’ heart, stronger than the hatred he was feeling. 

“Sit down,” he said calmly, and he took her heavy bag from her. “You’re staying here. I’ll sleep on the couch. And I’ll call her to tell her what an arrogant piece of shit she is.”

Brenda shook her head, sitting down on the old armchair beside the door. “Please. She knows. And you’re not sleeping on the couch.”

“Brenda -”

“Stop being such a gentleman, Thomas Green. I’m staying on the couch.”

There was a hardness in her voice that wasn’t there before, catching Thomas off guard. Deciding it was no use to protest, Thomas turned around to make her a cup of tea instead, ignoring her suggestion to throw some vodka into it. 

“Did you call Mrs. Barlow?” he asked gently, placing the cup in her shaking hands. She looked up, her eyes bloodshot but cold, and shook her head. 

“It’s four in the fucking morning,” she said.

Thomas shrugged. “You woke me up.”

“I’m sorry,” Brenda said, her voice tired but steady. “I just knew I could count on you.”

“I’m joking, it’s fine,” Thomas assured her. Then, he frowned. “Wait, why didn’t you go to Minho’s? He has a spare room.”

Brenda scoffed. “Please. He’s busy enough as it is.”

Thomas hesitated, checking the time. He didn’t want to leave Brenda alone in this state, but he also didn’t want to push her boundaries.

“Are you sure you’re okay sleeping on the couch?” He tried. It came out weak, unsure.

Brenda nodded. “Just leave me be. I’ll be fine.”

Then, she sighed. “I’ll get a new job. They fired me from the coffee place because I was never there.”

Brenda looked up, taking one last sip from her tea before sitting it down. 

“I’ll pay rent. And cook. And do the groceries.”

“You don’t have to,” Thomas protested, but Brenda dismissively waved her hand. 

“It’s the least I can do.”

They remained quiet for a while, a silence only disturbed by Sofia’s nails ticking on the floor as she approached them. She rested her head on Brenda’s feet, looking content with the midnight visitor. 

Thomas absentmindedly scratched behind her ears, until Brenda suddenly leaned forward and pulled him into a tight hug. 

“Thank you, Thomas.”

—

Thomas rushed out of the apartment that morning, stopping only to get Brenda a glass of water, leaving it by the armchair she’d curled herself up in, despite her determination to sleep on the couch. Thomas chuckled slightly, knowing her back would kill her today. Not bothering to look at the time, he pulled on his coat and locked the door behind him, running out of the building as fast as he could. 

To Thomas’ surprise (and annoyance) Newt was already there when he walked into Gally’s office. The blond politely smiled at him, but Gally was less than amused. 

“I told you to not be late.”

“I’m not, I -”

Thomas stared at Newt, confused.  _ How could he get here before him? _ Thomas had told him the meeting started at ten, not nine. The blood drained from his face. That could only mean -

He checked his phone for the time and groaned. Ten thirty. He’d overslept. 

“I am so sorry,” he said, rushing forward to take a notebook and pens out, practically throwing them on the table. “My friend -”

“Yes?” His boss raised his eyebrows, clearly waiting for Thomas to come up with a stupid excuse. Thomas bit his lip. He didn’t want to talk about Brenda -- that was personal.

“My friend came over in the middle of the night and needed help,” he said softly, knowing how ridiculous it sounded. He felt his cheeks warm up in embarrassment. “It was around four, so I overslept, I didn’t check the time when I woke up because I always wake up on time -”

“You didn’t set an alarm?”

That came from Newt, which did not help Thomas’ embarrassment at all. 

“I don’t have one,” he admitted, gazing at the Brit sheepishly. “I usually don’t need one.” 

Gally sighed, clearly frustrated. “Whatever. You’re both here now, I don’t wanna waste any more time waiting.”

Thomas took that as his cue to sit down and so he did, facing Newt, Gally on his right. 

“I’d usually explain it all, but…” Gally started, in an accusing tone. Thomas looked down at the table in shame. He’d never been this late before. 

“Long story short, there’s a virus going around and some farmers have been complaining. I’d usually not pay attention to it, but the farm it’s at belongs to Janson and Paige, the biggest around here. I want you two to look into it, find the source and develop an antidote or a vaccine for the animals. They called the virus the Flare, so far it’s been incurable, but it has to be some kind of mutation of something we already know.”

Thomas’ insides turned cold and he stared at Gally in shock. “You want us to work together?”

Gally sighed, rubbing his temples. For a split second, he looked sick. “You two are my best employees at the moment. Just do it.”

When Thomas didn’t reply, he looked him straight in the eyes. “You’re dismissed. Newt, stay.”

Thomas stood up in a daze, grabbed his things and left, feeling Newt’s gaze burn on his back. He had to physically restrain himself from turning back and glaring at him.

“Look who made it,” Minho said when he reached their office. “Thought you were dead for a while.” 

Thomas glared at him and Minho raised his eyebrows. “Damn. Was Gally that mad?”

“I overslept,” Thomas grumbled. “But that’s not why I’m upset.”

He sat down and threw his notebook on his desk. “He wants me and Newt to work together on this disease case.  _ Newt _ !”

If Minho was surprised, he didn’t let it show. “So?”

“So?” Thomas asked, cringing at how desperate he sounded. “I hate that guy!”

Minho snorted. “You barely even talked to him.”

“Don’t go taking his side now,” Thomas said. It was meant to sound like a warning, but it came out more like a plea. “He stole the job I’ve been wanting for years. I hate him and that means you do too. It’s your duty as my best friend.”

“Whatever, dude,” Minho said, dismissively waving his hand. “So what if you hate him? He’s the research associate, all you have to do is write down what he finds.”

Thomas grunted. “That’s not the  _ point,  _ Minho. I can barely be in the same room as him, let alone work with him.”

“Aww,” Minho said, a grin creeping up on his face. “Looks like Tommy-boy has a crush.”

If looks could kill, Minho would be six feet under by now.

—

“So, Tommy,” Newt said. Thomas had to hold himself back from groaning out loud.  _ Why was this guy everywhere? _

“Yeah?” he asked, turning to face him. He faked a smile, hoping the blond would buy it. 

Newt folded his arms, studying his face for a second before speaking up. “You don’t like me.”

Thomas felt himself blush, taken aback by how straightforward he was. “That’s not true.”

_ It’s true.  _

He bit his tongue to prevent himself from speaking any more. Newt raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re a terrible liar. It’s obvious.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “I’m  _ starting _ to not like you.”

“Please,” was Newt’s reply. “Don’t bother. It’s been obvious from the start, and I can’t say I was surprised to see ink all over my door handle only minutes after I saw you leave my office, the other day. By the way, can I have my pens back?”

Thomas stood rooted to the ground, embarrassment taking over every cell of his body. Sure, he wasn’t exactly secretive, but he had no idea Newt knew what he’d been doing from the start. He almost felt bad.  _ He knew? _

“Listen, Tommy,” Newt sighed. Whereas his face had been confident just moments before, he mostly looked tired now. “It’s fine. I get it. But we have to work together now, so I’m asking for a truce. After that, you can go back to hating me. Throw ink all over my buggin’ door if you want.”

Thomas stared, his mind blank. He’d usually know exactly what to say in situations like this, but something about the blond threw him off completely.

“The storage closet,” he blurted out after a few seconds of silence. 

Newt frowned, confused. “What?”

Thomas  _ hated  _ it, hated the way his voice curled the ‘what’ into a ‘whot’-sound, hated the way his eyebrows furrowed together, hated how he still towered over Thomas even though he wasn’t even standing up straight, and still, he gave in. 

“The storage closet. In your office. That’s where I hid your pens. Top shelf.”

Newt smirked, all his confusion gone. “Thanks, Tommy.”

He turned around and walked away, leaving Thomas standing alone, confused, but not as angry as he’d been before. 

A truce, then. 

—

His fingers hovered over her phone screen, debating whether or not he should answer. The phone buzzed, once, twice, then fell dead. He didn’t know if it was relieving or not. 

Then, it buzzed again. 

Glancing at Brenda and seeing she was already asleep, Thomas answered. 

_ “Hello? Brenda? Where are you?” _

He closed his eyes, bowing his head. Millions of thoughts swarmed his head, troubling his eyes. He leaned into his hand, resting his elbow on the small kitchen table. 

“It’s Thomas.” 

It was quiet for a few seconds. He checked the phone to see if she’d hung up. 

_ “Oh,” _ she then said.  _ “Hi, Tom.” _

“What do you want?” 

He got startled by his own loud voice and glanced over his shoulder. Brenda was still asleep. 

_ “I want to talk to Brenda.” _

Thomas stood up, getting frustrated. Deciding it wasn’t the best idea to start yelling inside of the apartment, while Brenda was asleep, he walked outside, onto his tiny balcony. 

“You can’t,” he said. “And you shouldn’t. Besides, she’s asleep.”

Silence again. 

_ “She’s asleep?” _

“Yes,” Thomas said. “It’s eleven and she was out all day, trying to find a job. Oh, and she didn’t sleep until at least six in the morning because you decided to kick her out in the middle of the fucking night.”

He hoped the remark hurt her a little, but she continued speaking, her voice steady. 

_ “Wake her up. I want to talk.” _

“No,” he said sternly. “She doesn’t want to talk. I won’t let you talk to her.”

A huff.  _ “What are you, her boyfriend?” _

“Fuck off, Teresa.”

_ “Wait, are you her boyfriend now?” _

He hung up quickly, feeling his blood boil. For a split second, he considered throwing the phone off the balcony, but before he could, he remembered it wasn’t his. 

He quietly walked back inside, locking the doors to the balcony. 

“Who was that?”

He jumped, nearly falling over. Brenda was sitting on the couch, her hair ruffled up and her face tired. Even in this state, she looked ready to fight someone. 

“Teresa.”

She winced. “The fuck did she want?”

Thomas shrugged, handing her her phone. “To talk to you. I told her to fuck off, then she asked if we were dating, and I hung up on her. Almost threw the phone off the balcony.”

Brenda scoffed. “I’m blocking her.”

“Should’ve done that ages ago.”

Brenda only hummed in response, typing away on her phone. Thomas walked away, deciding to give her some space and also sleep. It was only eleven, but he couldn’t risk being late again. 

“Thomas.”

He stopped, turning back around. Brenda was barely visible from where he stood. Only her face was illuminated, by the harsh light of her phone. It made her look even paler than she already was. 

“Did you talk to Minho?”

Thomas frowned. “I talk to Minho every day.”

“I know, but -” She looked down. “Never mind. Good night, Thomas.”

She turned off her phone, stopping him from being able to see her. Thomas turned back around, deciding not to give it much thought. She often had weird moments like this. 

But, laying in bed, thinking about the past day and her weird question, he couldn’t help but feel worried his life was somehow about to drastically change. 

—

  
  


_ Saturday, 2:28 AM _

**_Minho_ **

“ _ Minho?” _

“It’s me.”

_ “It’s two in the morning.” _

“I know. I’m sorry.”

_ “What’s wrong?” _

“I just… I just wanted to talk to you.”

_ “At two in the morning?” _

“I missed you.”

_ “Already?” _

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called.”

_ “It’s fine, Minho, I’m just teasing you.” _

“You sure? It is pretty late.”

_ “I’m a musician. This is my regular bedtime.”  _

“That’s concerning.”

_ “I sleep in late every day. Kinda makes up for it.” _

“It’s still concerning.”

_ “You’re awake too.” _

“I missed you.”

_ “If I’m keeping you up till two every night, you shouldn’t. Sounds like I’m a bad influence.” _

“I’m always awake until two.”

_ “A musician too, hm?” _

“Scientist. Well, I work at a science lab.”

_ “That’s… surprising, to say the least.” _

“Why?”

_ “You just don’t seem like a scientist.” _

“So I’ve been told.” 

_ “Then it must mean something.” _

“Ben?”

_ “Yeah?” _

“Can I see you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize for the lack of newtmas so far, but i promise you, it'll come. patience, my friends :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sounds like you’re more worried about him than about your girlfriend.”
> 
> Thomas shut his eyes, already annoyed, taking a deep breath before replying with a shaky voice. “You know, you’re a very invasive person.”
> 
> “So I’ve been told.”

“Good morning, Tommy. Happy birthday.”

Thomas stared at Newt, blinking slowly. The Brit held out his arm, grinning, holding a carefully wrapped up box. 

_Okay, what the fuck._

“Who told you it’s my birthday?” Thomas replied instead of accepting the gift -- _was it a gift?_ Thomas wouldn’t blame him if it was a time bomb. 

Speaking of which, it did appear to be ticking slowly. 

“Minho.” Newt moved the box up and down, still grinning widely with that stupid smile of his. “Take it.”

Thomas eyed the box suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Damn it, Tommy, just take the bloody box.”

Thomas hesitated, but seeing the look on Newt’s face, decided to trust him _(A truce, Thomas. A truce)._ He took the box, politely smiling at him. He’d probably throw it in the trash later.

Newt didn’t move. 

“Open it.”

Thomas refrained himself from rolling his eyes. He was sure he’d never met anyone this troublesome before. “Alright.”

He carefully unwrapped it, making sure to not to tear any of the paper, feeling Newt’s intense gaze burn into his skull. Beneath the wrapping paper was a plain white box. It was ticking. 

This time, he decided to voice his thoughts. “You bought me a time bomb?”

Newt rolled his eyes and smirked. “Yes, Tommy. I bought you a time bomb, because I hate you so much.”

Thomas threw him a weird look and opened the white box, even more confused when he saw its contents. 

An alarm clock. 

“Figured you might need it,” Newt said and Thomas looked up, meeting his gaze. The blond seemed to be sincere, although he was still smirking. For a second, Thomas had the strange urge to give him a hug. 

“Thanks,” he simply said, shaking off that weird thought. Newt’s smirk turned into a soft smile and he reached forward, gently squeezing Thomas’ right arm. The touch burned and he almost pulled away his arm before remembering their so-called _truce._

“You’re welcome. ‘Course, it was mostly for me, wouldn’t want you to be late now that we work together.”

He winked and turned around, walking towards the elevator with still that slight limp. Thomas stared at it for a second, wondering where he got it. An accident, maybe? It couldn’t be a sports injury -- as skinny as Newt was, he wasn’t very muscular, and Thomas didn’t think he worked out. 

Then, Minho jumped on his back, interrupting his train of thoughts. 

“Happy birthday, Tommy-boy! Finally twenty-six, Jesus Christ. Thought you’d be a baby forever.”

“You only turned twenty-six a month ago,” Thomas defended himself, but he grinned nevertheless. 

Minho looked at the box Thomas was holding and whistled. “Who got you that? Looks expensive.”

Thomas lay the box down, almost embarrassed by the stupid gift. “Newt. Said he needs me to have it so I won’t be late.”

Minho chuckled. “I like that guy.”

Thomas glared at him. “And what did _you_ get me?”

“Just my charming personality,” Minho winked. “And a ticket to see the Gladers live, tonight. Brenda was right, they’re awesome.”

Thomas groaned. “Not them again. Brenda won’t shut up about them, it’s getting annoying.”

Minho threw him a stern look. “I’m serious, Thomas. You’ll love them.”

Thomas was about to reply with a sarcastic comment when he saw that Minho was serious. It was kind of concerning. 

“Fine,” he said, pretending to be annoyed, but he couldn’t bite back a smile.

—

  
  


“I’ve been to their farm, at least a hundred animals are infected, all different breeds. Mostly pigs and cows, though. The virus seems to be spreading more quickly amongst -- Tommy, are you even listening to me?”

Thomas was, in fact, not listening to him. His mind had been on Brenda -- after nearly a week, she still hadn’t found a job. He’d offered to accompany her to her interviews a couple of times, to which she kept telling him she could do it on her own. Whatever ‘it’ was. He’d considered asking the Homestead if they could hire her when he and Minho went there tonight -- but Aris was a regular customer there. He called the coffee shop she used to work at -- they hung up the phone as soon as he mentioned her name. He’d been worried for her all day, texting her every thirty minutes.

Needless to say, he had not been paying attention to whatever Newt was rambling about. 

Newt sighed, sitting down in his tall, black chair. “Listen, Tommy, I want to get this done as soon as possible, so could you _please_ make an effort here? I’ve been talking for ten minutes now and you haven’t written down a single word.”

As much as Thomas despised Newt for stealing _his_ job, he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Newt had been working hard all week -- Thomas saw him less and less every day -- and Thomas couldn’t bring himself to focus for even ten minutes. 

“Sorry,” he said, and he meant it. “I just haven’t been able to focus.”

“Rough night?” Newt asked, standing up to walk closer to him. He leaned against his desk with his hip, about six feet in front of Thomas, arms folded. 

“Rough life,” Thomas said, chuckling. “It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothin’,” Newt said -- his accent seemed to be getting stronger every time they spoke. 

Thomas sighed. “It’s my friend, Brenda. She got fired a while ago and no one seems to want to hire her. I guess I’m just worried for her.”

Newt averted his gaze, staring at the floor. “Understandable. Does she need the money? Badly, I mean?”

Thomas shrugged. “I guess. She needs to find a place to live and she doesn’t have enough money at the moment.”

Newt looked back at him at that, his expression unreadable. “She doesn’t have a place to live? As in, she’s homeless?”

“No,” Thomas laughed. “She lives with me, for the moment.”

He felt an uneasy feeling come over him. _Why was he telling Newt all of this?_

“Anyway, it’s fine,” he said, attempting to change the subject. “I’m sure she’ll get a job. Let’s just keep going.”

“Alright, Tommy,” Newt chuckled. “As long as you promise not to daydream about your girlfriend any more.”

Thomas felt his face warm up and bowed his head. “She’s not my girlfriend. Just a good friend.”

Newt hummed, obviously not convinced. Thomas almost told him Brenda was just going through a divorce, but held himself back. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t any of Newt’s business. 

“Get writing, I’ll start over.”

—

“Minho?”

Thomas peeked inside their shared office space, frowning when his friend wasn’t there. His desk was empty, his computer was shut off and his chair was still in the same spot it had been when Thomas arrived in the office that afternoon, after lunch, to grab his laptop. 

He’d spent the entire second half of the day with Newt, processing all the information Newt was telling him as much as he despised it. Working with the blond was a pain in the ass, but Thomas forced himself to deal with it. The sooner they got this done, the better. 

Newt had let him off half an hour early with a nod and a grin, saying Thomas had to take care of his girlfriend. Thomas had glared at him.

He checked his phone. No unread messages or missed calls. 

He sighed and turned the lights off while dialling Minho’s number. As much as Thomas was okay with him taking a day off here and there, this was too much. He’d missed four days already in the past two weeks. 

Straight to voicemail. 

He stepped into the elevator with the phone clutched to his ear, ignoring Newt , who was standing right beside him, watching him curiously.

“Minho,” he started, trying not to sound annoyed. “Where are you, man? I haven’t seen you since noon and I’m getting worried. This is the fourth time you’ve been absent this week.”

Newt had been polite enough to look away and pretend not to hear, but Thomas could see he was listening to every word Thomas said. He turned away the slightest bit. 

“I just wanna know if you’re okay,” he concluded, not wanting Newt to hear another thing. He hung up quickly, hoping he wouldn’t say anything -- but it was Newt, so _of course_ he did. 

“Sounds like you’re more worried about him than about your girlfriend.”

Thomas shut his eyes, already annoyed, taking a deep breath before replying with a shaky voice. “You know, you’re a very invasive person.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Thomas opened his eyes, turning his head to look at him. The doors opened, but neither of them moved. 

“Brenda is _not_ my girlfriend and Minho is fine. Don’t get involved.”

Newt shrugged. “Sorry. I just feel like Minho is going through some things.”

“And how would _you_ know?” Thomas sneered, feeling himself get angry at Newt -- seriously, this guy worked here for all of two weeks and immediately thought he owned the place or something.

Again, that careless shrug. It made Thomas want to punch him. He was sure he’d never disliked a person this much before. 

“I’ve seen him, talked to him. He seems unhappy with something.” 

Thomas scoffed. “Minho and being unhappy is like the two of us getting along. Impossible.”

Newt turned his head, looking into his eyes with an unreadable expression on his face. It was so strange, so unsettling, that Thomas unwillingly held his breath. Never before had it dawned on him that he truly didn’t know Newt, at all. It made him uneasy. 

“You think so?”

Thomas let out a shaky breath. Tension hung in the air, buzzing, thick. Thomas felt like he could snap any minute and balled his hands into fists. “Don’t you?”

“When you two are done staring at each other, can you get out? I’ve been holding these doors open for ages now. There’s people waiting, you know?”

The sudden voice startled them both, completely evaporating the previous tenseness Thomas felt. 

“Yeah,” he grumbled, walking past the old man that had spoken up, not bothering to look at Newt again. 

—

When Minho showed up at his doorstep at eight, Thomas wanted to punch him. His friend seemed happy, careless, not at all upset about anything. 

At least, until he saw Brenda. 

“The fuck do you want?”

Thomas turned sideways, confused. Brenda was glaring at Minho, her arms folded and her jaw set. Thomas couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her this angry. 

“I, uh,” Minho scratched his neck, visibly uncomfortable. “I came to pick Thomas up.”

Brenda raised her eyebrows, a cold look on her face. “Why?”

Minho let out a short laugh, but it didn’t sound happy at all. “It’s his birthday, I’m -”

He glanced at Thomas. “I’m taking him to see the Gladers live.”

Brenda seemed taken aback by that, but after a second, the anger was back on her face. 

Thomas, unsure of what to do, looked back and forth between them like they were playing a tennis match. 

“Do you want to come?” He tried, but a glare from Brenda shut him up almost immediately. 

“Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Have fun.”

She walked into the kitchen, coming back with a wrapped box. 

“Here’s my present, Thomas,” she said, not bothering to look at Minho. 

“Happy birthday.” 

Then, she shuffled both of them out, locking the door after them before Thomas had the chance to say goodbye. 

He turned to Minho. “What was that about?”

Minho shook his head, his jaw set. “It’s nothing. Come on.”

Thomas wanted to ask further, but Minho glared at him. 

Thomas sighed. _Great_. 

“Well, if you’re not going to tell me what happened, at least tell me why you weren’t at work today. Wait -” He stopped walking. Minho turned around, a blank expression on his face. “You didn’t hook up with Brenda, did you?”

The look on Minho’s face would have been hysterical if it wasn’t for the fact that Thomas was incredibly worried about both of them. 

“Dude, no!” Minho exclaimed, his face full of disgust. “Brenda’s my friend, I would never -”

He shook his head, shuddering. “God, Thomas, I worry for your mental state sometimes. Coming up with these things…” 

He turned around and walked away, mumbling to himself -- probably about how stupid Thomas was. 

“So I worked with Newt today,” Thomas said, quickening his pace to catch up with him. Minho looked up, grinning. At least that got a reaction out of him. 

“And?”

Thomas shrugged. “Still hate him. Even more than before, if that was even possible.”

—

  
  


Alright, Thomas had to admit it. The Gladers were good. They had a certain edginess to them, even while playing the most beautiful ballads. The main singer was dancing around the small stage pretty much the entire time, almost tripping on several occasions. The guitarist mostly stood in the back, focused on nothing but the music, but looked up and shot a smile into the crowd every once in a while. The drummer was amazing, making no mistakes at all, and the pianist almost brought Thomas to tears during his solos. 

As much as he was annoyed by Brenda’s constant rambling about the band, he found himself genuinely admiring them and having a good time. Now, standing beside Minho, who was grinning and quietly singing along, he secretly wished he’d known about them before. 

The performance seemed to be over just minutes after it started, but his gut told him they’d played for roughly an hour. They said goodbye with a bow and waves as the crowd cheered them on. When they left, soft pop music started playing and the crowd started moving, some leaving, some simply going to the bathroom or getting a drink.

“And?”

Minho looked at him, grinning from ear to ear. Thomas felt himself smile. 

“They’re great,” he said. Minho clapped him on his back. 

“Yeah, they are.”

Thomas was about to turn around to get his coat when Minho grabbed his shoulder. 

“Wait, I want to show you something.”

Thomas, although confused, followed him to the right side of the room, behind the tall curtains that hung from the ceiling. 

“You gonna give me a birthday kiss?” He asked jokingly and Minho huffed. 

“You wish.”

He walked up the tall staircase. “Come on.”

Thomas stood still, not sure if he should follow. “Are you sure? Isn’t this a restricted area?”

Minho turned around, halfway up the stairs, smiling. “Don’t worry. We’re allowed to go up there.”

Thomas glanced behind him. No one seemed to be following them, but he still wasn’t sure. When he turned back, Minho was waiting for him, his arms folded. “You coming?”

Thomas let out a deep breath and started walking up the stairs. “If we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

Minho merely grinned at him. 

The stairs led to a wide, open wooden space filled with expensive-looking furniture and a wooden platform that seemed to hang over most of the room. As far as he could see, it was all part of the attic, directly under the roof. 

A couple of people were spread throughout the room - Thomas recognized them after taking a better look. The Gladers. 

The guitarist looked up from his place on the couch and smiled. “Minho! Who’s your friend?”

Minho walked forward and, to Thomas’ surprise, sat down next to the guy, inclining his head towards the armchair directly in front of the couch while looking at Thomas. 

“This is Thomas,” he said. “Thomas, Ben.”

Thomas sat down and smiled curtly at the guy, slightly uncomfortable. Ben seemed to sense this, as he grinned and said: “Don’t worry, we’re allowed to be here. Artist privilege.”

“Oh,” Thomas simply said. The rest of the Gladers gathered around them, sitting down on either the floor or on one of the couches. 

“These are Frypan, Zart and Winston,” Ben explained, pointing at each boy as he named them. “Fry sings, Zart plays drums and Winston’s the pianist. As you probably saw.”

The Gladers all greeted him as Ben introduced him and Thomas felt himself getting more confused. Minho knew these guys? 

“How do you know each other?” He eventually asked Minho, who leaned back and rested his arms on the backrest of the couch. 

“Brenda knows Ben and introduced us. He gave us the tickets for tonight after we met up again.”

Thomas raised his eyebrows. “Is that why you weren’t at work today?”

Ben, who was just taking a sip of his water, choked and coughed, nearly spitting his drink out. His face reddened. 

Minho smiled at him after he’d regained his breath. “You could say that.”

Thomas wanted to ask more, but then, his phone rang. 

He glanced down at the screen and frowned upon seeing it was an unknown number. 

“I’m gonna take this,” he mumbled, standing up to walk away from them as their conversation started up again. 

“Hello?”

_“Hey, Tommy, it’s Newt.”_

Thomas frowned. _Newt had his number?_ He didn’t remember ever giving it to him. 

“What’s up?” He asked, concerned. The guy sounded serious, almost grave. 

_“Listen, Tommy, I know it’s late and it’s your birthday, but I might’ve just discovered something important.”_

“What? If you’re calling me to tell me you’ve discovered I put your name on spam mail lists last week, please wait until tomorrow.”

To his surprise, Newt laughed. _“No. Although that does explain why I’ve got a hundred and fifty unread emails. It’s about the Flare.”_

Thomas turned to look at Minho and the Gladers, who were still deep in conversation. “A hundred and fifty? I expected forty at most.”

_“If you come over I promise to read them all.”_

Thomas raised his eyebrows, although he knew Newt couldn’t see him. “That’s a big promise, Newt. Why are you working at nine p.m. anyway?”

_“God damn it, Tommy, just come to my office.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't be shy leave a comment :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas cringed. “Minho, please.”
> 
> “Just saying! You don’t just disappear for five hours unless you’re hooking up with someone.”
> 
> “I did not hook up with Newt,” Thomas said, sitting down on his desk. He pressed against his temples with his fingers, closing his eyes. This conversation was giving him a headache. 

When he got to the WCKD facility, all the lights were out. Thomas looked up, a gust of wind against the back of his neck making him shiver. In the darkness of the late evening, the building seemed to blend in with the sky, making it appear even taller. 

Newt was waiting for him behind his desk, furiously typing away on his laptop. When he saw Thomas a relieved look came upon his face. “Tommy.”

“Yeah.”

Thomas walked into his office, sitting down on the edge of his desk. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

Newt seemed on edge, fidgeting and messing with his hair more than ever before. 

_Me neither,_ Thomas thought, but he chose to shrug instead. “Well, you called.” 

“It’s your birthday,” Newt pointed out. “And you were with Minho.”

“How did you know?” Thomas asked, surprised. 

Newt shrugged. “Minho told me.”

“Whatever,” Thomas said, deciding it wasn’t important. “What did you discover?”

“Well,” Newt said, standing up. “I did some more research, ran a few tests. Collected blood from the infected animals, studied it, had a few guys work with it to try and develop an antidote or cure.”

“And?” Thomas said. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for this -- couldn’t Newt just have done this tomorrow? Minho wasn’t happy to see him go, even when Thomas said it was an emergency, and he really didn’t want to have come here just to hear it wasn’t that important. 

Newt made a hopeless gesture with his arms, then dropped them down. “Nothing. It’s incurable.”

He sat back down, running a hand through his messy hair. It seemed like the guy hadn’t slept in days. His face was pale, his hair was messed up and there were bluish eye bag under his eyes, making his youthful appearance suddenly not so youthful. 

“Are you sure?” Thomas tried. “New diseases are often some sort of mutation of diseases that already exist, so if you took the antidote for an older one -”

“Tried it. It’s a new disease. That’s the thing.”

Newt stood up again, pacing back and forth. “There hasn’t been anything like this before, I’ve checked. It’s a completely new virus and it’s incurable, which means we’re officially screwed.”

He sat back down with a sigh, looking more desperate by the second. “I became a little suspicious, so I asked Harriet to trace everything they’ve been doing lately and it all seems fine. Except for May twenty-second.”

He picked up a stack of papers and handed them to Thomas. “These are their reports. Neat freaks, they are. Keep track of everything. Except for May twenty-second, that is.”

He grimaced. “There’s nothing there. Curious, because they even keep track of the days where neither Janson nor Ava is there, as well as when the farm’s closed. Look -- ‘no actions have been taken.’”

He tapped his finger on the page Thomas was looking at. February first. 

“If you try to find May twenty-second, nothing’s there. The entire day’s missing.”

He gestured towards his computer. “I’ve been emailing with Harriet for hours. This has never happened before. She’s checked. Now this might be a coincidence, but..” 

He leaned closer and Thomas looked up into his dark brown eyes. Thomas was sure he’d never seen him this serious before. 

“Isn’t it a little weird that this specific day’s missing, and less than a month later, they contact us, asking to solve their problem with a new disease that’s been goin’ on for a couple weeks?”

For the first time in minutes, Thomas spoke up. “Are you saying…”

Newt nodded. “They’ve done it themselves. Probably contacted one of their little scientist friends, developed a virus and then left us to deal with the bloody mess. And here’s the thing -”

He turned his laptop towards Thomas, showing him a scanned document. 

“Gally’s stupid arse signed this buggin’ thing without looking at it properly. Right here -” he pointed at a line at nearly the bottom of the document - “it says that if we don’t find a solution to the problem, we owe them a certain amount of money, up to fifteen thousand dollars, for ‘damage treatment’. Can’t mean anything good.” He made a sour face. “They’re probably gonna use it to put down all their animals and scam another company.”

Thomas let out a heavy breath. “Shit, man.”

“Shit, indeed.”

They remained quiet for a while as Thomas filed through the papers. Newt was right -- the data skipped from May twenty-first to the twenty-third as if nothing happened. He sighed, staring at the file without really seeing anything.

“Speak up, Tommy. I can see your wheels spinnin’ from here.”

Thomas frowned.

“This is their mistake,” he slowly said, pointing at the file. “A day missing. Of course, if we sued them, it won’t help our case at all. They’ll just create fake data for this day before we can mention it.”

He stood up, throwing the papers on Newt’s desk. “Of course, we can’t just break our contract without losing lots of money. We can’t stop working with them either, unless we want to lose fifteen thousand dollars.”

Newt was watching him silently as he walked back and forth, wringing his hands as he tried to come up with a solution. 

“There are two things we can do.”

Newt raised his eyebrows. “Please, do elaborate.”

“One,” Thomas started, choosing to ignore his sharp tone, “we don’t do anything.”

Newt let out a confused laugh. “What?”

“We don’t do anything,” Thomas repeated. “Any time they ask, we say we’re still working on it. That way, we didn’t fail and we don’t have to give them any money and we don’t actually have to work on it, because they can’t watch us at all times. A few check-ups at their farm every month will convince them we’re still trying and it won’t be much work for us.”

“But?” Newt asked, sensing the unspoken continuation. 

“But,” Thomas sighed. “Even if they buy it and patiently wait at first, they’re gonna get tired of waiting for their money after a certain amount of time, and they’ll say we’ve failed, so we'd still have to pay them.”

“Right,” Newt said, drawing out the word. “What’s the other option?”

Thomas sat back down on his desk. “We break the contract.”

Newt laughed again, coldly this time. “They’d sue us.”

“I know.” Thomas sighed. “But we have two things working in our favour; one, the signed contract is obviously unfair, two, we can explain to them how they’ve tricked us into working for them and eventually paying up. That’s where this -” he gestured towards the papers lying in between them - “comes in handy. If we dig deep, we might find some digital files as well.”

He shrugged. “It’s risky, but it’s our best shot.” 

Newt didn’t say anything after that, just watched him silently. Thomas’ heart was racing. Did he say anything wrong? Newt was impossible to read-- his expression was blank as he watched Thomas. Then, he let out a deep, tired sigh. 

“I need a fucking smoke.”

—

“Where the _fuck_ have you been?”

Brenda stood in the middle of the living room, her arms crossed, a scowl on her face as she watched Thomas struggle to keep Sofia inside. He pushed her back a little with his hand, closed the door, then straightened up to throw her an apologetic look. 

“Look -”

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” She hissed, stepping forward and pricking his chest with her finger. He stumbled backwards, taken aback by her aggressiveness. 

“It’s two in the morning, Thomas, I’ve been waiting for you for _hours!_ Minho called me around nine, saying you took off for some reason and you didn’t even think to text or call?”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Thomas said, cautiously taking off his coat. She watched him carefully, looking as if she could snap any minute. 

“I got caught up at work and I forgot to call, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just not used to rooming with someone.”

Brenda scoffed. “Work? It's your birthday.”

“I know,” Thomas said. He stood very still, too scared to move. “But it was important, I promise.”

“So important you kept working until two a.m.?”

“Yes,” Thomas said, stepping forward. “I swear. I’m probably going to have to work on it every day for the rest of the week as well, or even longer. I -”

He bit his lip, not sure if he should keep talking. Brenda raised her eyebrows, as if asking him to continue. 

He sighed. “There’s some shit going on at work, we might get sued, we might -”

“Yes?” Brenda asked impatiently. “Spit it out, Thomas. I don’t feel like waiting all night -- _oh wait_ , I’ve already done that.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Thomas said, agitated. He ran a hand through his hair. 

“We might have to ask Jones & Agnes for a lawyer, and knowing them, Teresa’s gonna be the lawyer in fact. She’s Gally’s friend, I -” He made a hopeless gesture. 

Brenda stared at him, dumbfounded. The initial anger on her face had vanished, replaced by complete and utter shock. Her lip trembled. 

“Fuck you, Thomas.”

And with that, she turned around and lay down on the couch, pulling the blanket so far over her face he could barely see her. 

—

When he got to work that Monday, he was greeted by Newt, who looked more stressed than ever before. 

“Morning, Newt,” he said, tapping his shoulder. The blond turned around, his face full of anxiety, and sighed in relief when he saw who it was. 

“Morning, Tommy.”

“Did Gally call you yet?” Thomas asked, walking towards the elevator with Newt right next to him. 

“Like a hundred times,” Newt responded. “I almost threw my phone out of the window yesterday.” He pressed the ‘2’ button on the button panel. “I get it, though. It’s stressful.”

“Yeah.” Thomas eyed him curiously. During the short amount of time Thomas had known him, Newt had always seemed like a calm, put-together guy. Now, he was jittery, tired and anxious. Thomas almost felt sorry for him -- it must be insane, getting a new job and having your first big project be a scam. For the first time, he was grateful he _wasn’t_ in Newt’s position. 

He frowned. _What the fuck_. 

The elevator doors opened and they stepped out. 

“Go get your stuff and come to my office,” Newt said. “We’re going to have to work on this all day, probably. Or longer. Maybe call in a few secretaries and Gally as well.”

Thomas nodded, walking towards the door on the right side of the hall while Newt turned to the left. 

Minho was waiting for him. 

“Hey,” Thomas said, surprised. “You’re early.”

“Tell me why Brenda called me yesterday with a very interesting story.” 

Thomas walked to his desk, rummaging through the drawers. 

“I thought you were fighting,” he mumbled. 

“Not anymore.” 

Thomas grabbed his old, messy notebook and stood up straight, turning towards Minho. “What was that fight about anyway?”

“Don’t change the topic,” Minho said. His face was serious, but there was a certain sparkle in his eyes that couldn’t mean anything good. “You left at nine, saying Newt had called you to come to the office. Then, you don’t come home until two in the morning. Either I’m stupid, or..” He grinned. “Something very interesting happened here.”

Thomas cringed. “Minho, please.”

“Just saying! You don’t just disappear for five hours unless you’re hooking up with someone.”

“I did _not_ hook up with Newt,” Thomas said, sitting down on his desk. He pressed against his temples with his fingers, closing his eyes. This conversation was giving him a headache. 

“I’m straight, Minho. And the _interesting_ thing that happened here is that we found out Janson and Paige have been using us to get money, so we worked to find a solution all night, emailing about a thousand people. Speaking of which…” He stood up. “We’re going to have to keep working on this all day. Maybe all week.”

Minho held up his arms as if surrendering. “Alright, alright. If you say blondie doesn’t make your boxers sit a little tight, I believe you.” He snorted. “Isn’t it ‘knickers’ for him?”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, and I don’t care.”

He slapped the top of Minho’s head with his notebook. “Now get to work. I’ll see you later.”

—

  
  


“Tom.”

Teresa stood in the middle of Newt’s office, holding an expensive-looking bag and wearing a suit Thomas knew all too well. She stood straight, facing Newt, but watching Thomas. 

“Wearing your wedding suit to work. Is that allowed?” He sneered. 

Her face hardened. “I can do whatever I want.”

Thomas scoffed. “Like cheat on your wife?”

She sighed, exhaustion showing on her face. “Tom, try to be professional.”

Newt was watching them intensely, his eyebrows furrowed together in obvious confusion. 

“Only if you stop with the nicknames,” he sneered. “You know I hate them.”

For a second, she looked hurt, but then her cold mask was back in place and she nodded. 

“Fine. Thomas.”

—

“Seems like you and Mrs. Agnes… Teresa, know each other.”

Thomas looked up from the files he was studying. Newt wasn’t watching him, his eyes trained on his laptop. Still, he could tell that he would listen to whatever Thomas had to say. 

“Yeah,” Thomas said softly. “She used to be one of my best friends.”

“Used to?”

Newt was watching him now, dark brown eyes peeking out over the back of his laptop. 

“Long story short, over time, she fell in love with my other best friend -- Brenda -- and they got married.” He made a sour face. 

“Then, one day, Brenda came home to find her messing around with Aris in the sheets. Jones,” he added, upon seeing the confused look on Newt’s face. “They’re going through a divorce right now, Teresa kicked Brenda out and now she lives with me.”

He shrugged. “It’s complicated.” 

“Shit,” Newt breathed out. He’d leaned back, and Thomas could see his entire face now. 

“Shit, indeed,” Thomas agreed.

“And you’re okay with working with her?” Newt asked, visibly worried. Thomas nodded, then shook his head. 

“I… whatever it takes, I guess? I’m mostly hoping this is over soon.”

He bit his lip. “Brenda doesn’t like me very much right now, though. But she’ll be fine. I hope.”

Newt nodded, a concentrated look on his face. Thomas could almost see him think. 

“I’ll try to keep you away from her as much as possible,” he said, slowly. “Although you can’t avoid her completely.”

“I know,” Thomas said. “Unfortunately. But it is what it is.”

“Yeah.” Newt moved into his original position, and Thomas could, yet again, only see his dark eyes. “I guess so, Thomas.” 

—

  
  


_Sunday, 3:00 PM._

**_Minho_ **

“So… you really do like him?”

Minho nodded. “I guess. We… talked.”

Brenda raised an eyebrow, looking sceptical. “You _talked_?”

Minho nodded again, embarrassed. Even though he was the one that initiated the conversation, all he wanted to do was to run away from it. Brenda’s stern gaze was making him question everything he’d ever done. 

“Yeah. On the phone. And in real life. He introduced me to music, let me play the drums..”

He felt his face warm up, almost too scared to continues speaking. “He, um..”

“He what?” Brenda asked, concern coming over her face. She leaned forward the slightest bit and placed her hand on his bouncing knee, calming it down a bit.

“Well,” Minho started, feeling his heart race. “Apparently, Zart is leaving to start a solo career, and I told him I don’t particularly like being a scientist, and when I played, he offered me a place in the Gladers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops, there it is :) i hope yall are enjoying it so far!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How was Teresa this week?”
> 
> Thomas turned around, but Brenda hadn’t looked up from the tv. Her voice sounded raspy and hollow, as if she’d been crying. He carefully moved over to her and sat down next to her. 
> 
> “Fine, I guess. Newt promised to keep her away from me as much as possible.”
> 
> Brenda turned her head, looking at him with bloodshot eyes. “That’s nice of him.”

When Thomas got home on Monday night, exactly a week after he started working with Teresa and Newt, Brenda was waiting for him on the couch, her phone in one hand, a glass of red wine in the other. One look at her told Thomas she hadn’t left the house at all that day; she was still wearing her pyjamas, had her hair pulled back in a ponytail and she wasn’t wearing any make-up. Despite her lazy appearance, she seemed on edge, as if something had been stressing her out all day.

“Hey,” Thomas said, taking off his coat to throw it on the tall armchair next to the door. She looked up and nodded, acknowledging that she’d heard him, but then looked back at the tv, even though it wasn’t on. 

“You okay?” Thomas asked, worried. She nodded again. 

“Should I make dinner tonight?” He asked, and with another one of her nods, he walked into the kitchen. He searched through the cupboards and eventually settled on Mac ‘n Cheese - Brenda’s favourite. 

“How was Teresa this week?”

Thomas turned around, but Brenda hadn’t looked up from the tv. Her voice sounded raspy and hollow, as if she’d been crying. He carefully moved over to her and sat down next to her. 

“Fine, I guess. Newt promised to keep her away from me as much as possible.”

Brenda turned her head, looking at him with bloodshot eyes. “That’s nice of him.”

“Yeah,” Thomas said. It  _ was  _ nice of him, wasn’t it? As much as Thomas despised Newt, he was always doing Thomas favours. He made a mental reminder to thank him for that.  _ Maybe _ .

“What are you smiling at?”

Thomas looked up. “Nothing. Want some Mac ‘n Cheese?”

She nodded, returning her gaze to the tv. 

It was quiet for a few minutes, until Thomas called her for dinner. 

She sat down at the tiny table with the glass of wine still in her hand, now empty. Thomas awkwardly pointed at it. 

“How many of those have you had?”

Brenda set it down on the table. “Just a couple. It’s fine.”

Thomas nodded. “Don’t drink too much.”

“Yes,  _ mom. _ ”

—

Brenda remained quiet for the rest of the evening and had already gone to sleep when Thomas came back from his daily walk with Sofia. She’d curled herself up on the couch with a thin blanket covering half of her body, the glass of wine sitting on the coffee table, half empty. 

  
  


Thomas sat down next to her and gently pulled the blanket over her shoulders. She didn’t move at all. For a second Thomas worried she’d stopped breathing altogether, but then she coughed and turned around. 

Thomas decided it was best to leave her be. Brenda never really appreciated his pity, and whenever he did try to comfort her, she’d push him away. He smiled bitterly as he remembered the last time she’d gone an entire day of being this quiet and distant. 

—

_ “Thomas?” The girl was sobbing on the other side of the line. Thomas instinctively stood up, ignoring the confused look Minho threw him from behind his desk.  _

_ “Brenda? What’s wrong?” _

_ “T-teresa... She…” Brenda hiccuped, her voice strained. “I..” _

_ “Hey, tell me,” Thomas said calmly, but anxiety was crawling up to him, gripping his throat tightly. He’d never heard her sound this upset before. Minho had stood up and was now standing next to Thomas, listening in on the conversation, frowning.  _

_ “I… Her and Aris…” _

_ What happened next was a blur. Thomas vaguely remembered storming out of the office, Minho right on his feet. Gally had tried to hold him back, but Thomas had pushed him out of the way. Next thing he knew, he came home to find Brenda on his doorstep, her face splotched and tear-stained.  _

_ “Hey, hey, I got you.”  _

_ Thomas had helped her up and taken her inside, Minho rushing into the kitchen to make her a cup of tea as Brenda broke down, telling him in between sobs that the love of her life, Thomas’ best friend for years, had completely and utterly betrayed them both.  _

_ She’d come home early, calling for Teresa. When she came into their bedroom, Teresa had been there -- but she hadn’t been alone. She’d run out of the house immediately, calling Thomas on the bus. Teresa hadn’t even tried to hold her back.  _

_ After hours of talking to her, trying to calm her down, she quieted, and she didn’t speak again for days.  _

—

“Morning, Thomas.”

“Morning,” Thomas replied. Brenda looked a lot better than the day before -- she was all dressed up with styled hair and make-up, as if she was going out. She even smiled at him. 

Thomas walked into the kitchen to make a sandwich. “Wanna talk about yesterday?”

“No,” Brenda said sharply. Thomas could hear her moving around the tiny living room. “Although, Thomas…”

When she stopped speaking, Thomas turned around to look at her. She stood in the middle of the room, fiddling with her fingers. Thomas raised his eyebrows at her. She sighed. 

“I think you should talk to Minho.”

—

Thomas found Minho in his apartment. After hearing Brenda’s ominous comment, he’d worried all day, until he decided to leave early to find Minho. He hadn’t been in his office -- when asking Gally about it, his boss had simply scowled at him. 

Minho opened the door fairly quickly, sighing when he saw Thomas and stepping back to let him in. 

Thomas raised his eyebrows. “Good evening to you, too.”

Minho mumbled something as he closed the door behind him. 

Thomas looked around the spacious apartment, surprised to see how messy it was. There were clothes scattered all over the floor and on random chairs which seemed to not have been put back in their place after sitting on them, there were dishes left undone and the dinner table was filled with cups and papers. On top of them stood Minho’s laptop with a cup of coffee next to it, only half full. 

“Damn, Minho, when’s the last time you cleaned up?” He tried to joke, but Minho simply grumbled something and sat down. Thomas felt himself grow worried. 

“What’s up?”

“Took you long enough to notice something, hm?” Minho suddenly sneered, glaring at him. Thomas almost stepped back in surprise -- Minho had never randomly snapped at him before. 

“What?”

Minho scoffed and simply opened his laptop. 

Thomas walked over and closed it. 

“What?” Minho asked, visibly annoyed. 

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked. He sat down on one of the chairs in front of Minho, his hand still on the laptop. 

Minho sighed. “Doesn’t matter, Thomas. Just leave it.”

“Leave it?” Thomas asked, exasperated. “I come in here to find your apartment all messed up, you haven’t been at work today and now you’re mad at me and expect me to leave it?”

Minho let out a cold, harsh laugh and opened his laptop again. “Jeez, Thomas. I knew you were stupid, but never  _ this  _ stupid.”

Thomas frowned. “What did I do?”

Minho ignored him, typing something on his laptop. Thomas shut it again, almost hitting his fingers with the screen. Minho quickly pulled them back and glared at him. 

“Minho -”

“Been too caught up in your little Newt business to notice, haven’t you?” Minho snapped. “I haven’t been at work this entire  _ week,  _ Thomas, because Gally fucking fired me.”

He stood up, walking away from Thomas. Thomas sat in shock for a few seconds, before he stood up and put a hand on Minho’s shoulder to turn him around. Minho slapped it away. 

“Gally fired you?” Thomas asked, confused. “Why?”

Minho let out another cold laugh and turned around. "Cause I fucking hated that job and barely worked anymore.”

This time, Thomas did step back in surprise. For some reason, this stung more than anything Minho had said before. 

“You hated it?”

“Every single day, Thomas,” Minho said, shaking out of anger. “But it was the only thing I was good at, so I stayed. Until last week, that is.”

To his surprise, something of a smile came over Minho’s face, but it quickly faded away as Minho looked at him again. 

“Course, you’ve been too focused on bringing Newt down to notice me being gone. They cleared out my side of the office days ago.”

Thomas swallowed, hurt. “I -”

“Whatever, Thomas. It doesn’t matter anyway. Just keep playing your childish games and pretend I’m not there.”

“I’m sorry,” Thomas softly said. "I had no idea.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “Of course you didn’t. You never would have, because you’re always too busy with yourself. You know who  _ did _ notice?”

He jabbed at Thomas’ chest with a finger, eyes daring him to answer. Thomas, terrified, gave out a weak “Who?”

“Newt,” Minho hissed viciously. “The guy who’s been here for only a couple of weeks, noticed and helped me. He’s a really good guy, Thomas, have you ever noticed that?”

He threw his arms up in desperation and stepped back. "Of course you haven’t. You know who else noticed? Ben. He found out almost immediately. Brenda noticed, too. Took her a couple years, but she’s been trying to help me as well, for the past few weeks, despite all the shit she’s going through. And  _ you  _ -”

He stepped forward threateningly, jabbing at Thomas’ chest once again. 

“You were too busy with your own pathetic feelings to notice anything.”

Minho was about the same height as Thomas, but now seemed to tower over him as Thomas struggled to process all the information Minho had thrown at him in the past few minutes. Minho was still staring at him, chest heaving, clearly waiting for an answer. 

Eventually, Thomas scraped his throat. “Newt -”

Minho’s cold laugh interrupted him. “No, shut the fuck up, Thomas. I don’t want to hear your pathetic lies. Newt has helped me  _ so much  _ these past few weeks and maybe if you weren’t so busy being a jealous fuck, you would’ve noticed that he’s actually a good person and he’s not to blame for you not getting promoted. That was Gally. Not Newt.”

Thomas blinked, trying not to let his hurt show on his face. “I’m sorry.”

That was all he could get out, before turning around and practically running out of Minho’s apartment, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) oops


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And Newt?”
> 
> Newt looked up from his laptop, eyebrows raised. “Yes, Thomas?”
> 
> “It’s Tommy for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the first scene from brenda's pov is a flashback]

_Saturday, 11:38 AM._

**_Brenda_ **

_“You slept with Ben.”_

_Minho froze in place. Brenda stood in front of his door, arms folded, a scowl on her face. His shocked expression would’ve been funny if Brenda wasn’t so mad._

_“Listen -”_

_“You promised me, Minho.”_

_She stepped forward, tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. “You promised me, and you fucked it up. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”_

_Minho didn’t move as he looked at her, a guilty expression plastered on his face_

_“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Brenda scoffed and walked past him, bumping her shoulder into his._

—

  
  


Thomas came home looking as if he’d been hit by a bus. As pissed as Brenda was at him, she couldn’t help but worry for the boy when he stumbled into the apartment. 

“What happened?” She asked, standing up from the couch she’d sat on for the past two days. He looked up, eyes filled with tears, and shook his head. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he said with a choked-up voice. “It…”

He dropped down on the armchair next to the door and hid his face in his hands. Brenda crouched down, placing her hand on his knees. She felt herself get emotional as he let out strangled sobs, not speaking a word. 

“Hey,” she softly said. “I’m here, okay? Do you want me to make some tea?”

Thomas didn’t look up, but there was a slight shake of his head that Brenda took to be a nod. Standing up, she wondered what had happened at work that'd upset him so much. Thomas loved his job, never got upset by anything. Even when he didn’t get the promotion he’d been working for for years, he seemed pretty okay. Brenda wasn’t sure she’d seen him cry at all. He just seemed numb. 

This was different, though. Thomas seemed genuinely upset by something.

Brenda made tea without speaking a word, the quiet sobs of Thomas in the background. Eventually, they turned to sniffles, and when she turned around to bring him his tea, he was completely quiet. The only sign he’d ever cried were his red eyes and nose. 

“Here you go,” she said, sitting down on the floor in front of him. Thomas took the cup with shaking hands, but seemed to calm down a tiny bit when she smiled at him.

She decided not to talk to him as he slowly drank his tea. Thomas seemed to appreciate it -- he didn’t initiate a conversation himself, either. When he sat down the cup, though, Brenda knew they had to talk. 

“So what happened?” She asked. “I’ve never seen you this upset before.”

Thomas cringed. “I’m an idiot, that’s what happened.”

His voice was still tight and shaky, but better than before. 

“Me and Minho fought.”

Brenda lowered her head instinctively, guilt washing over her. After all, she’d been the one to tell him to talk to Minho. 

“What did he say?” She asked carefully. Thomas touched her face and she lifted it to look at him. 

“It’s not your fault," he said as if he’d been reading her mind. “It was me. I was too busy with my own business to realize Minho was unhappy, and he rightfully told me off.”

Brenda nodded in understanding. “So what did you do?”

Thomas let out a laugh that didn’t have any humour in it. “I’m a coward, so I whispered an apology and ran out.”

Brenda bit her lip. “That _is_ kind of stupid, Thomas.”

“I know, god damn it,” Thomas said, standing up in what seemed to be pure frustration. Brenda craned her neck to look at him as he walked past her and paced back and forth through the room. 

“I just couldn’t take it, he kept telling me that I should have known, that you knew, that Ben knew, even Newt _,_ fucking _Newt_ and I just -”

He stood still, staring at her with a desperate look in his eyes. “I just couldn’t take it.”

Brenda stood up from her position on the floor, conflicted. On one hand, Minho was right, Thomas had been a selfish dick lately, but on the other hand, the boy in front of her looked so sad, so _broken,_ she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. There were new tears in his eyes threatening to spill out, his hands were dangling by his side instead of fiddling with something like they usually did, and the corners of his lips were quivering. 

“Fuck, Thomas,” she whispered and she stepped forward to pull him into a tight hug just before the boy broke down again. 

—

“He’s really upset, you know.”

_“Suits him right.”_

“Minho -”

_“I don’t want to talk about it, Brenda. Give me some time.”_

“Alright. But don’t be surprised when you come over and all you find is a broken shell of our best friend.”

_“He’ll get over it.”_

“I know, but still. He’s really sorry.”

_“I hope so.”_

“How’s Ben?”

_“He’s good. He told the Gladers that I could replace Zart and they seemed pretty happy with it.”_

“That’s great, Minho. Really.”

_“I’m sorry, you know. But I really like him.”_

“I know. It’s okay.”

—

**_Thomas_ **

He didn’t see Minho for two full days. Brenda tried to force him to get up and call him or even go over to his apartment, but Thomas refused every single time. It wasn’t that he wasn’t sorry -- it was more that he couldn’t bear to face his best friend. Listening to Minho was so heartbreaking and humiliating, just the thought of talking to him made Thomas want to hide in his room forever. 

If Newt and Teresa noticed that anything was wrong, they didn’t mention it. Newt kept his promise, taking up as much of Teresa’s time as possible while Thomas sat in the corner of the room, hidden away, trying to stay focused on his work and not on Teresa, Brenda, Newt, or worse, Minho. Teresa tried to approach him a couple of times, but every time, Newt had softly placed his hand on her shoulder or elbow, turning her away to talk to her about something. Thomas suspected that by now, they’d covered every single outcome of this situation and Newt was just repeating himself to keep her away from Thomas. It caught Teresa’s attention as well, of course, as he found out on the second day after his fight with Minho, when she finally managed to corner him. 

Thomas glanced over her shoulder, desperately searching for Newt, but he’d left to get himself his sixth cup of coffee that day. Remembering that the nearest coffee machine was pretty much broken and the slowest thing he’d ever seen, Thomas felt his heart fell and he internally groaned. Newt would be gone for at least five minutes working on that thing, which meant that Teresa had all the time in the world to annoy the hell out of him. 

“Tom.”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

Teresa rolled her eyes. “Come on, you like nicknames.”

Thomas scowled at her. “I hate them.”

“Newt calls you Tommy. Or, he did.”

“Yeah, well, I hate him.”

Teresa frowned, confusion visible on her face. “You -”

“I don’t want to talk to you, Teresa,” Thomas said, glancing over her shoulder to see if Newt was back yet. “Don’t you have some work to get done? Some lawyer things to discuss with Newt?”

Teresa’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t think I haven’t caught on, Thomas. Newt has asked me exactly how much money WCKD can lose in this case about a million times even though his memory is incredibly good. He’s trying to keep me away from you.”

Thomas shrugged, feeling a blush creep up on his face from embarrassment. “So?”

“So, I think he should stay out of our business,” Teresa said. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

Thomas glared at her, throwing as much hatred into the look as he could. “There’s no ‘us’ or ‘our’, Teresa. I told Newt about what you did and he’s just helping me stay away from you, because quite frankly, I can’t bear the sight of your face. So just leave me the fuck alone, please.”

Teresa didn’t seem the slightest bit upset by what he’d said. “Fine. But I’m not done talking to you. Or Brenda.”

She looked so smug, so goddamn annoying, Thomas was glad that Newt came back at that very moment, because if he hadn’t, Thomas definitely would have punched her and gotten into trouble. When Newt saw them, Teresa still looking at Thomas, arms folded, and Thomas, who knew he probably looked furious, his eyes widened before he composed himself and set down his mug. 

He scraped his throat. “Teresa, come here, will you? Thomas, can you go get Gally for us, please? I think we might be close to a solution here.”

Maybe it was the smirk on Teresa’s face or the look that she threw him, but Thomas’ heart was suddenly filled with anger, wishing to hurt her more than ever before. Glancing at Teresa, he nodded, heart almost beating out his chest. She opened her mouth, as if to say his name, but he cut her off by walking away and speaking up. 

“And Newt?”

Newt looked up from his laptop, eyebrows raised. “Yes, Thomas?”

“It’s Tommy for you.”

And as much as he hated nicknames, he couldn’t help but feel satisfied when he saw Newt’s lips curl into a dorky smile while Teresa stood in the middle of the room, frozen, a horrified look on her face as he turned around and left the room. 

—

On the third day, Minho stood in front of his door when he came home, his hands in the pockets of his long coat. Thomas froze in place. Minho was looking at him, an expression he couldn’t quite make out on his face. 

Thomas walked closer carefully, stopping when he was only a few feet away. Minho didn’t say anything, just looked at him. Never before had he seemed so intimidating, yet so vulnerable. Thomas suddenly realized how much he’d missed the man. 

Then, Minho’s face broke out into a grin. 

—

When Thomas apologized for the fifth time, Minho whacked him over the head with the unread newspaper on the coffee table. 

—

“Thomas.”

Thomas turned his head from where it was lying on the headrest to look at Minho, who was rummaging through Thomas’ fridge. “Hm?”

“I think I really like this guy.”

Thomas smiled, looking back at the tv. They’d turned it on a few hours ago and a random movie Thomas didn’t know was playing as background noise. 

“That’s great, Minho.” And he meant it. 

Minho turned around, holding a bottle of beer. A small smile was resting on his lips. “I think I’m gonna ask him out. Like, on a date.”

“Good luck. Don’t have sex on the couch.”

Minho snorted. “Don’t think Brenda would allow that.”

He walked back to the living room, sitting down on one of the comfy but ragged chairs. “Now it’s your turn.”

Thomas groaned, rolling his eyes. “Please.”

“I’m serious!” Minho exclaimed. “Go on a date. Hook up with someone. Flirt with a colleague, I don’t care, just do something.”

Thomas looked at him, not amused. “No.”

“Come on, dude. Isn’t there anyone you like?”

“Nope. And get me a beer.”

“You’re gonna die alone.”

“Fine by me.”

Minho stared at him, horrified. “ _Dude_!”

Thomas shrugged. “I’ll find the right one when she comes along. Or not.”

“I’m literally going to kill you.”

“Then I’ll _definitely_ die alone.”

Minho threw a pillow at him. “You’re hopeless.”

Thomas grinned, catching it just before it hit him in the face. “I’m sorry, I’m just not interested in anyone.”

“What about that Sonya girl from your building? I saw her in the hallway.”

Thomas frowned. “You mean Newt’s sister?”

Minho’s eyes widened. “That’s his _sister_?”

“Yes!” Thomas exclaimed, throwing the pillow back at him. “They’re pretty much twins, look at them.”

He’d met Sonya only weeks ago when he helped her with the keys to her apartment -- the building was fancy, but old, and the locks were old and rusty. She’d flashed him a smile and thanked him. Sure, Thomas thought she was cute, but any attraction he felt towards her vanished when he saw Newt later that day, who’d smirked at him and asked him how his sister had been. Thomas was confused at first, but then Newt had explained, and Thomas immediately stopped thinking she was cute -- sisters were always off territory, even if it was your enemy’s sister. 

He cringed at his own thoughts. _Enemy_. As much as he hated to admit it, Newt didn’t really feel like his enemy anymore. He’d been too nice to Thomas for that. 

Thomas still hated his guts, though. He couldn’t remember ever disliking anyone else this much. _Rival_ probably sounded better.

“Promise me something.”

Minho’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up at him, sincerely hoping he hadn’t spaced out for more than just a few seconds. “What?”

“Promise me you’ll try to get along with Newt. For me.”

Thomas changed his mind. He now hated Minho as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day! i hope you're enjoying this :) 
> 
> ps. don't be shy leave a comment


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, Tommy.”
> 
> “Trying to restart the conversation?”
> 
> “I am, in fact, trying to restart the conversation,” Newt said, flashing him another one of his smug grins. Thomas had gotten very used to them by now.

“So, I think, if we contact them ourselves before - yes, Tommy?”

Thomas let his hand fall from where it’d been knocking on the door. Newt was watching him, a small smile on his face. Teresa, however, looked like she wanted to kill him. 

Thomas walked into the office, not bothering to hide his grumpiness -- fine, he would do this, for Minho, but that didn’t mean he had to be sincere. 

“Tom -”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped at Teresa, glaring. If she was upset by it, it didn’t show. 

He turned towards Newt. “Can we talk?”

Newt raised his eyebrows in obvious surprise, but nodded. Thomas gestured towards Teresa. 

“Alone.”

Teresa looked in between them as if she was watching a tennis match. When Newt jerked his head towards the door, she dramatically sighed and stood up, bumping into Thomas’ shoulder when she walked past him. Thomas waited for her to close the door, only relaxing when it fell shut. 

“What’s up, Tommy?” Newt asked, setting aside his laptop and paperwork, gesturing for him to sit down where Teresa had sat just moments ago. Normally, Thomas would’ve rolled his eyes and ignored him, but, biting his lip, he obeyed.  _ For Minho.  _

“I fought with Minho,” he said. “But that’s not what I want to talk about.”

Newt gave a slow nod, as if to tell him to continue. Thomas sighed. He really,  _ really _ didn’t like this. 

“He forgave me for being an idiot, but only if I try to be your friend. So…”

He reached out with his hand, trying to hide how much it was shaking. When Newt didn’t move, he almost pulled it back, but then Minho’s (stupid,  _ stupid _ ) face flashed across his mind and he sighed. 

“Please?”

Newt’s face broke out into a grin so wide it could have split open his face. He leaned forward, grabbing his hand and giving it a short shake before leaning back. He didn’t seem surprised at all, more amused by Thomas’ obvious embarrassment.

“Alright, Tommy. I’ll be your friend.”

“He also…” Thomas scraped his throat and closed his eyes for a second, trying to compose himself. God, he wanted to leave. 

“He forced me to apologize to you for all the shit I’ve done, so…” He made a hopeless gesture with his hands. “I’m sorry. I guess.”

Newt’s grin turned into a soft smile. “‘S alright, Tommy. It was more funny than offensive, if I’m honest. Kind of cute.” 

Thomas glared at him. “Keep talking like that and I’ll break my promise to Minho right now.”

Newt laughed this time, a full, clear laugh. For some reason, the odd thought that crossed Thomas’ mind was that he couldn’t remember ever hearing it before. 

“I like you, Tommy. Now let’s get to work, shall we? Wouldn’t want Gally to fire our asses for talking too much.”

—

As it turns out, exposing Janson and Paige was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Teresa worked in silence all day now, arranging meetings for them and gathering as much information as she could from Thomas, who spent most of his time researching their data with Newt. Gally, grumpier than ever, walked in on them at least seven times a day, asking the same question over and over again; “How’s it going?”

And Newt would always reply with the same few words, not bothering to look up at him. “It’s going.”

Teresa mostly ignored Thomas now, probably still hurt by what Thomas had done. In college, all she’d ever called him was Tom and other stupid nicknames, and apparently having that privilege taken away didn’t sit right with her. It pleased Thomas more than anything and he even caught Newt smirking at her grumpy face every once in a while. Either way, it only took her a day or two to get all her work done, handing them a big stack of papers at noon without looking at either of them. 

“Here’s everything I’ve done. Read through it, see if you have any questions, then contact me again.”

She walked out of Newt’s office with her face sad but her head high. 

Newt turned to smile at him. “Isn’t she lovely.”

They carefully looked through the file together, the process taking up the next half of the day. Thomas was so busy he barely had time to worry about anything else other than the fact that he had to be nice to Newt from now on. It was surprisingly easy, considering all the time they spent together. Still, it took all of Thomas’ mental strength not to roll his eyes every few minutes. Newt didn’t seem to notice, though, and if he did, he didn’t bring it up. 

Newt’s attitude changed as well. Of course, he’d always been the annoyingly nice guy, but he didn’t seem to try to get on Thomas’ nerves anymore. 

Thomas still hated the nicknames, though. 

—

“So, Tommy.”

Thomas looked up from the page he was studying -- something about the probability of them being sued for breaking the contract. He hadn’t been paying much attention, feeling his focus slip away with every tick of the clock. It was already dark outside, but he and Newt had promised themselves to stay until they’d read the entire file in case Teresa was scamming them as well. 

Newt was sitting on his desk, not even trying to cover up the fact that he hadn’t been reading. He looked tired, his eyes slightly lazy and his posture slouched. 

“You know, that’s gonna kill your back,” Thomas noted, nodding towards him. Newt smiled. 

“Well, I only have one good chair and you’ve stolen it.”

Thomas grinned. “You took the desk.”

“It’s my desk!”

“It’s also your chair.”

Newt didn’t reply to that, just shook his head while he chuckled. Even in his uncomfortable position, Thomas was sure he’d never seen him this relaxed before. 

“So, Tommy.”

“Trying to restart the conversation?”

“I am, in fact, trying to restart the conversation,” Newt said, flashing him another one of his smug grins. Thomas had gotten very used to them by now. 

“Why exactly did you hate me so much?”

Thomas groaned, dropping his head in his hands. “No.”

“No what?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I think I deserve an explanation.” Thomas didn’t see him, but he heard Newt come closer. “Come on, Tommy.”

Thomas looked up, glaring at him. Newt was now standing in front of his desk, leaning against it with his arms folded and a stupid smile on his face. 

“Fine,” Thomas grumbled. “It’s just that…”

He looked at Newt. His face was serious now, and somehow, that pushed Thomas to keep talking. 

“Ever since I got hired here, I’ve been working my ass off to be a Research Associate. I put everything on hold for it, even my love life. And when Vince left, I thought Gally would finally give in and promote me -- I mean, he pretty much promised he would, and then…” He shrugged. “You got the job instead.”

When he looked back at Newt, the man had lowered his head. His face was hidden behind a mop of blond hair, making it impossible to see how Newt was feeling. For a split second, Thomas was worried Newt would laugh at him.

Then, he looked up. 

Thomas had the strange urge to cover his face when Newt looked at him. The blond had the heartbreaking mixture of guilt and sadness etched into his face, making Thomas want to look away from him more than ever before. 

“I’m sorry, Tommy.”

Thomas refrained himself from standing up to hug the boy at that. His voice was genuinely remorseful. Instead, he shook his head and chuckled. 

“It’s fine.”

“I’m still sorry. I shouldn’t have taken that opportunity away from you.”

Newt’s expression softened. “I’ll talk to Gally for you.”

Any pity Thomas had felt for the boy vanished immediately, replaced by embarrassment. As much as he wanted the job, Gally would  _ definitely  _ pity him if Newt talked to him, and that was the last thing Thomas wanted. “No, please -”

“No?” Newt interrupted him, raising his eyebrows. “You don’t want the job?”

Thomas wished he could say yes, wished he could stop Newt from definitely embarrassing him, but he couldn’t force himself to speak. 

“That’s an answer,” Newt mumbled. “And Tommy?”

“Hm?”

“I doubt Gally will pity you.”

—

Brenda was pacing through the living room when he got home, despite the late hour. Her face was full of worry, turning into relief when she saw him.

“Thomas.”

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked, walking over to her and placing his hands on her upper arms. She winced.

“Tomorrow -”

Suddenly, Thomas remembered everything he’d forgotten about in Newt’s office. The divorce. Teresa. Aris.

“Oh, of course, I’m sorry,” he cut her off, gently wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. Brenda’s hands were pressed between their chests, leaving a small gap between them. 

“I’m scared,” she whispered. Thomas pulled her even closer, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder. 

“I know. But it’s gonna be okay. You’re finally putting an end to this.”

He felt her nod and when he pulled away, her eyes were filled with tears. 

“I wish you could come with me.”

“I know. Me too.”

She stared at him for a few seconds, completely quiet. “I don’t think I can face her.”

“She should be the one who’s scared,” Thomas replied, feeling his heart ache for Brenda. She nodded and stepped away. 

“I guess.”

—

“How did it go?”

Brenda stepped into the apartment, her hands wringing together.

“Fine. I guess. She tried to talk to me, but Aris held her back.”

“You should get a restraining order,” Thomas suggested. “That way she can’t bother you anymore.”

“She’s a  _ lawyer,  _ Thomas,” Brenda sighed. “I’d never win that case.”

“You can always try.”

“I don’t like to lose.”

She was quiet after that, her face hard. Thomas considered approaching her, but she looked like she might need some time alone. 

“I’ll be in my room if you need me,” he said and she nodded in silence. 

When Thomas got to his room, his phone buzzed, and he took it out of his pocket with a frown on his face.  _ Who would text him at this hour? _

**newt: just realized who teresa reminds me of**

**newt: you know harry potter?**

**newt: you better know harry potter**

**newt: it’s snape. teresa is severus snape**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's pretty short, i apologize. i hope the next chapter makes up for it, that one's a fun one :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt let out a laugh at that. It was high-pitched and not at all what Thomas was used to hearing -- usually, Newt spoke and laughed in a soft, deep voice, and he couldn’t help but frown at him. 
> 
> “Did you just giggle like a girl?”
> 
> “I giggled like a man, thank you very much.”

Brenda seemed to be a whole new person, Thomas noted. 

Whereas she first just sat around the house, sulking whilst trying to find a job, she now danced around, baking, making dinner and calling people she hadn’t spoken to in years on a daily basis. On one Friday night, she took out her laptop and blocked Teresa on all social media, smiling so much it almost scared Thomas. She invited friends over to Thomas’ apartment without asking (not that he minded all that much), sung along to loud music and woke him up every morning with a smile on her face and a cup of tea in her hand. It was kind of concerning, to be honest. 

Still, Thomas was grateful for the distraction. Work had never been this stressful before; they’d chosen to break the contract with Janson and Paige, and had now indeed been sued. Teresa worked full days in Newt’s tiny office while Thomas struggled to keep up with all the paperwork. Newt, on the other hand, was suspiciously relaxed under all the pressure. Not that Thomas cared. At all.

Okay, fine, maybe he cared a  _ little _ . It was just that Newt was so  _ cool,  _ all the time. It annoyed Thomas, whilst also fascinating him. In his entire life, he’d never met anyone so comfortable with himself and his surroundings. Of course, Minho was cool too, but he was constantly full of energy. Newt was calm, put-together. It kind of scared Thomas sometimes. 

Despite his promise to Minho, Thomas tried to avoid Newt as much as possible -- it didn’t work. The blond seemed to seek him out whenever he was alone, trying to start up a conversation and Thomas engaged in it every single time.  _ For Minho _ . 

Newt asked him about random things, usually work-related, but even tricked Thomas into talking about his little brother for about half an hour once, reacting to every wild story with laughs and gasps at just the right moments. Thomas hated it. He hated how easy it was to talk to Newt, how much Newt seemed to like him and how he found himself warming up to the blond. He absolutely  _ hated  _ it.

—

Minho burst into Newt’s office late in the morning on a busy Tuesday. Thomas probably wouldn’t have noticed if Newt hadn’t pointed it out -- they stood on the tiny balcony outside Newt’s office together while Teresa sat inside, surrounded by books and paperwork with a constantly ringing phone. After hearing her pick up phone call after phone call, Thomas couldn’t take it anymore and he’d gone outside for a smoke, Newt joining him almost immediately. 

“Can’t take the phone ringin’ either?”

“It’s more her voice that annoys me,” Thomas replied, taking out a cigarette without looking at Newt. He heard the blond chuckle. 

“Fair enough.”

They looked out over the city together, not speaking much until Minho interrupted them. Newt had been leaning against the railing dangerously, facing the building, while Thomas stood holding the railing tightly, his back towards the building, staring at the skyscrapers and houses that rose up against the horizon. They’d been silent for a while until Newt threw his cigarette over the railing and scraped his throat. 

“Minho’s here.” 

His voice was a bit nasal when he was relaxed. Thomas had noticed that much in the past few weeks. He took a few seconds to wonder if all Brits sounded like that until he realized what Newt had said. 

“Hm?” He frowned. 

“Minho’s here,” Newt repeated, pointing to the glass office doors. Thomas turned around, throwing his cigarette away, and was met by the sight of his best friend grinning at him, holding a white box in his hands. He smiled and walked back inside, ignoring Teresa’s burning gaze on him, following his every move.

“What are you doing here?”

“Good to see you, mate,” Newt spoke up behind him, closing the door. 

Minho stood still in the middle of the room, still grinning at them. “Hi.”

“What’s up?” Thomas asked. Minho walked to Newt’s desk, carefully placing the box down on a spot that wasn’t filled with documents and pens. 

“I asked Ben out,” Minho said, still smiling. He turned back around, biting his lip as he faced Thomas and Newt. 

Thomas laughed. “That’s great!”

“What did he say?” Newt asked, sounding excited. 

“He said yes, of course,” Minho grinned. “But listen.”

He patted the box with one hand. “He also spoke with the Gladers yesterday. So…”

He opened his arms. “You’re now looking at the brand new drummer of the most popular local band.”

Thomas grinned so widely he could almost feel his face split open. “That’s amazing!”

Minho beamed, nodding furiously. “I’m a celebrity now.”

Thomas stepped forward and pulled him into a hug, despite Minho’s protests. “I’m happy for you, Minho. Really.”

“Thanks, Thomas.”

“That’s amazing, mate,” Newt spoke up behind him when they’d pulled away. He now stepped forward, engulfing Minho in another hug. 

“Congratulations, Minho,” Teresa said behind them, speaking softly. Thomas froze for a second, looking at Minho and Newt, but thankfully, they both ignored her. Minho turned around and opened the box, revealing a gigantic, round chocolate cake.

“Cheers.”

—

They ended up on the balcony, each seated in a soft, lazy chair. For some reason, Thomas sat in the middle, Newt and Minho on either side of him. Newt had decided to postpone their work until the next day (and really, who was Thomas to argue with that? It wasn’t like they needed to work every second of every hour). 

Or maybe he just enjoyed leaving Teresa to do all the work.

Teresa was still in Newt’s office. For a split second, Thomas had felt guilty for leaving her inside, but the feeling had vanished as soon as it came. She hadn’t asked to join them, either. 

Newt had locked the office, shutting the blinds so Gally wouldn’t see them slacking off. Thomas didn’t think Gally wouldn’t understand, but his boss could be unpredictable, which is why Thomas was grateful for the privacy. 

Minho and Newt had ended up talking the most, leaving Thomas to listen to them and their stories. He learned that Newt only had one sister, Sonya from his building, who was twenty-three and one of his best friends. His dad was a math professor -- Minho teased him about it for at least five minutes. He didn’t speak much about his mom, and Thomas didn’t ask either. Newt and Minho shared a love for art; Minho loved music and Newt loved painting and drawing. He even showed them pictures of paintings he’d done back in England -- Thomas wasn’t an expert, but he could tell Newt was really talented. It was a bit intimidating. 

“So,” Minho said when the sun had started to go down, “How are you two? Still hate each other?”

Thomas glared at him, but Newt laughed. 

“I never hated Tommy. It was very one-sided.”

Minho turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Thomas?”

Thomas sighed dramatically. “I still hate his guts.”

Newt chuckled and Thomas couldn’t hold back a smile himself. Sure, Newt annoyed Thomas every single second, but Thomas didn’t hate him  _ that _ much anymore. He was an alright guy. 

“Okay, okay,” Minho laughed, shaking his head. “I get it. Just make sure to make me best man when you two get married.”

Newt’s eyes widened in horror. “Minho!”

“I hate you,” Thomas grumbled. 

“Sure,  _ Tommy. _ ”

“Don’t call me that!”

Minho held up his hands in defence, smirking. “Alright. Didn’t realize Newt was the only one who got nickname privileges.”

“God,” Thomas said, leaning back into his chair and closing his eyes. “You’re a dick, I can’t believe Ben actually likes you. How did you win him over?”

“With my charming personality, of course.” Minho winked. “And, you know…”

“No!” Thomas exclaimed, horrified. “Please don’t finish that sentence.”

Minho grinned. 

Besides him, Newt scraped his throat, making Thomas jump. He’d almost forgotten Newt was there. 

“Personally, I think Minho is a very nice guy.”

Thomas glared at him and Newt smiled. 

“But yeah, a bit of a dick.”

“Hey!”

—

“Gally called me today.”

“Hm?”

“Gally called me.”

Thomas looked up from the newspaper, frowning. “What? Why?”

Brenda didn’t meet his eyes. “He offered me a job.”

Thomas stared at her in shock for a few seconds before feeling himself smile. “That’s amazing!”

This time, Brenda looked up, an insecure look in her eyes. “You think?”

Thomas nodded furiously. “Yes! The work is fascinating and the paycheck is great. Besides, you get to work with me.” 

Brenda rolled her eyes. “Teresa’s there.”

Thomas felt his face fall. He hadn’t even thought of that. “Oh. Right.”

He looked down at the newspaper, frowning. 

“Maybe… Just ignore her?” He suggested. 

Okay, he deserved that glare. 

“What did you say to Gally?” He asked. Brenda shrugged. 

“Told him I need to think about it. Which I do. I mean, the money’s great and all, but...”

She shrugged again. 

“I think you should do it,” Thomas said. “Teresa’s busy with us most of the time anyway, and she’ll be gone soon.”

Brenda sighed, mindlessly pricking into her food with her fork. “I just don’t want to take the risk, y’know.”

“I thought you liked risks?” 

“Not when they involve my ex-wife.”

“You don’t have to see her.” Thomas shrugged. “Just get a restraining order.”

“We’ve been over this. Teresa’s a  _ lawyer,  _ Thomas. Do you really think I would win that case?”

Brenda looked at him with a stone face and Thomas bit his lip. 

“I guess not.”

Brenda sighed, getting up. “It’s fine. I can handle her. I just need to think about it.”

She picked up her plate and placed it in the sink, only stopping to ruffle Thomas’ hair. 

“Don’t worry about me. Worry about your precious Newt.”

With a snort, she left the room. 

—

As soon as Thomas entered Newt’s office the next day, Teresa started speaking to him, but Newt shut her up with a glare. 

“Hi,” Thomas said, choosing to completely ignore his old best friend. Newt grinned at him. “Hi.”

“Tom -” 

“Teresa,” Newt cut her off. She threw him an annoyed look before diving back into her paperwork.

“Tommy.”

Thomas approached Newt, taking off his coat. Newt smiled at him, shaking his head.   


“No, don’t take that off,” he said. Thomas frowned. 

“What?”

“We’re going out,” Newt said, closing his laptop. “Together.”

Thomas was too stunned to reply, until Newt had put on his coat and was looking at him expectantly. 

“Wha- out? You and me?” He managed to stutter out and Newt nodded. 

“Not all day though, don’t worry. Come on.”

He walked past Thomas, not even bothering to wait for him. Thomas glanced at Teresa for a second, who looked at him with a hurt expression on her face. 

He followed Newt. 

—

“Where exactly are we going?”

Newt didn’t take his eyes off the road and smirked. “You’ll see.”

“If you’re on your way to murder me, please tell me in advance,” Thomas replied sarcastically. Newt snorted. 

“It’d be stupid to kill you  _ now _ , both Teresa and Gally know we’re gone. If I were to kill you I’d wait till no one could see us.”

Thomas raised his eyebrows at him. “Sounds like you thought it through.”

“Well, what can I say,” Newt sighed. “I had to plan out some sort of revenge after you sprayed my keyboard with adhesive. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“You’re welcome,” Thomas said dryly, trying to ignore the blush that crept up on his cheeks.  _ Of course  _ Newt knew it was him. Not that it mattered much - it had happened weeks ago, before Minho had forced Thomas to hang out with Newt. Speaking of him --

“Why are you hanging out with me?”

Newt looked at him at that, giving him a one-over before returning his gaze to the busy road ahead of them. 

“Why not?”

“We’re not friends,” Thomas pointed out, despite how harsh it sounded. Newt smiled. 

“Doesn’t mean we can’t  _ become _ friends. Besides, this is what Minho asked, isn’t it?”

“He asked me to try and get along with you,” Thomas said, choosing to ignore the blond’s first statement. “Not to go out with you.”

Newt snorted. “D’you think I’m taking you out on a date?”

“No!” Thomas exclaimed. He felt a warm wave of shock and anxiety flow through him and glared at Newt. “I just mean…”

“I know, Tommy,” Newt grinned. “Just messin’ with ya.”

He seemed amused by Thomas’ expression and he decided to turn his head, looking out the window at the many stores and cars flashing by. 

“You really that horrified at the thought of going on a date with me?” Newt asked, his voice teasing. Thomas felt his face warm up and rolled his eyes. 

“I’m straight.”

He couldn’t see Newt anymore, but he knew the blond was smirking when he spoke up again. 

“Sure.”

“I am!” Thomas said, giving in to the urge to look at Newt. The blond was still watching the road, but his eyes shot over to the side every once in a while, looking straight into Thomas’ eyes without any shame. 

“If you say so,” Newt said, but he didn’t sound like he believed him. 

Thomas ignored him for the rest of the ride. 

—

As it turned out, Newt didn’t plan to kill him yet, as he drove them to a small coffee shop Thomas had heard of before, but never been to.  _ The Glade,  _ the sign above the door said, in pastel pink, curly letters. Inside the coffee shop, it was warm and cozy, and Thomas was glad to see there weren’t that many people inside. 

“This is starting to look like a date,” Thomas said. Newt just smirked at him. 

Thomas followed him to the very back of the shop, into a small booth next to the tall windows. Before Newt had time to speak to him, a tall guy with ‘Nick’ on his nametag approached them. 

“Can I get you anything?”

“Coffee, please,” Newt said. “Black.”

The barista,  _ Nick,  _ nodded and turned towards Thomas. “And you, sir?”

“Green tea, please,” Thomas said. The guy nodded and wrote something down. 

“I’ll be right back.”

He left with a smile and Thomas turned back to, yet again, a smirking Newt. 

“Wipe that smirk off your face,” Thomas said with a glare. Newt shrugged. 

“Sorry. Just thinking about how odd it is that you, an American, orders tea and I, a Brit, order coffee.”

“I don’t like coffee,” Thomas said, feeling attacked. “It’s bitter and makes me feel like throwing up.”

“Bad gag reflex, hm?” Newt asked and Thomas narrowed his eyes. 

“If this is some kind of weird gay joke -” 

Newt laughed, holding up his hands as if surrendering. “It’s not, I promise.”

Thomas eyed him suspiciously for a few seconds before giving in to the smile tugging at his lips. 

Newt’s laugh faded into a genuine smile and he watched Thomas for a few seconds until they were interrupted by Nick setting their drinks on the table. 

“Thanks, mate,” was Newt’s response and Thomas gave him a polite smile. Nick nodded at them before turning on his heel and leaving them alone once again. 

“So,” Thomas started, watching Newt take a sip of his coffee. He made a face at it, clearly burning his tongue at the hot liquid. “Why did you take me here?”

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you, Tommy?”

“Just impatient,” Thomas said, pulling his mug closer to him. 

“Well,” Newt said, drawing out the word. “Like I said, Minho wants us to hang out, which includes getting to know each other.”

“So this  _ is  _ a date,” Thomas said sharply and Newt rolled his eyes. 

“Let me finish, will you? I just want to know you better, considering we’re gonna be stuck with each other for a while, so I figured we could take a couple of hours to do just that.”

Thomas raised his eyebrows. “What, are we gonna play twenty questions on something?”

“Sort of,” Newt pulled out his phone. “But it’s gonna be a little different.”

He clicked away on his phone and slid it over to Thomas, who frowned when he read the page. 

“ _ ‘How well do you know your best friend?’  _ Really?”

Newt shrugged, grinning. “Should be fun.” 

Thomas groaned and leaned forward, resting his head on his arms. He heard Newt chuckle and looked up just to glare at him. 

“Alright,” Newt said. “What’s your favourite colour?”

“We’re actually doing this?”

“Yes,” Newt said. “I’m gonna guess green.”

“Ha ha,” Thomas said, lifting his head from his arms. “Just because my last name is Green doesn’t mean I like the colour.”

“Your last name is  _ Green _ ?”

“You didn’t know? Geez, great best friend you are.”

Newt let out a laugh at that. It was high-pitched and not at all what Thomas was used to hearing -- usually, Newt spoke and laughed in a soft, deep voice, and he couldn’t help but frown at him. 

“Did you just giggle like a girl?”

“I giggled like a man, thank you very much.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Blue.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My favourite colour. It’s blue. Light blue, if you need details.”

Newt’s confused face turned into a smiling one and he scrolled on his phone. “Mine’s red. Any siblings?”

“One, Chuck, he’s twenty,” Thomas grumbled. 

“Sonya, she’s twenty-three.”

“I know.”

“You  _ know _ ?”

“We talked about this a while ago,” Thomas reminded him. “And she lives in my building.”

“Oh right,” Newt said, realization coming over his face. “Alright, any scars, tattoos or other quirkinesses… we can skip that one.”

A memory of a few weeks ago flashed through his mind and Thomas spoke before he could think about it. 

“A limp.”

Newt’s head shot up, his eyes darkening. “Sorry?”

Thomas shrugged, feeling his face warm up. “A limp.”

Newt’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t limp.”

“You do,” Thomas pointed out. “I noticed it a while ago.”

Newt’s expression was unreadable for a few seconds, before he smiled again. “I’m surprised you noticed. Can I say ‘moles’ for you for this one?”

“Sure,” Thomas said, not caring all that much. Newt seemed content at the answer, scrolling on his phone again.

“Next, favourite song. Let me guess, ‘Fuck you’ by Lily Allen?”

“Hey!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this long chapter made up for the previous short ones, i promise you the next ones will just be a normal length!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you teaming up against me?” He asked, trying to sound as accusing as possible. Newt grinned and winked. 
> 
> “What can I say, we’re a great team. The gays should always team up against the straights.”
> 
> “Bisexual,” Brenda said very casually, taking another sip of her drink. Newt raised his eyebrows at her. 
> 
> “You or him?”

To Thomas’ surprise, the hours seemed to fly by as Newt pulled all sorts of stories out of him, telling him about his life in England in return. 

Before he knew it, it was noon, and they left the coffee shop together, Newt laughing at his story about how he broke his arm in kindergarten. They’d had about three drinks each at this point, both more energetic than when they’d left work that morning. 

“I wonder how Teresa’s doing,” Thomas said as he sat down in the front passenger’s seat in Newt’s car. It was a nice car, clean and wide, and it smelled of cigarettes and leather. 

Newt snorted. “Probably calling with Janson and Paige or being harassed by Gally.”

“Good for her,” Thomas said coldly. Newt looked at him, not starting up his car yet. 

“You really hate her, don’t you?”

Thomas shrugged. “She cheated on my best friend.” 

“Brenda, right?”

Thomas nodded. Newt was still looking at him, his expression unreadable once again. 

“I’m sorry I made you work with her, Tommy.” 

“It’s fine,” Thomas said, trying but failing to sound casual. “She’s leaving soon.”

Newt hummed, starting up the car. “Good riddance.”

—

Brenda was waiting for him at home that night. She looked tense, almost expectant, and Thomas had the strange urge to turn around and leave at her ominous expression. 

Her face lighted up when she saw him and he felt the knot in his chest get a little looser. 

“Hey,” he said, taking off his coat whilst scratching Sofia behind her ears -- the hairy dog was jumping up against his legs. 

“Hey,” she said, grinning. “Guess what?”

“What?” Thomas asked, feeling himself smile. She stood up and opened her arms. 

“I accepted the job!”

Despite both of their doubts at the offer, Thomas couldn’t help but smile at her. She seemed so happy, so relieved, and above all, carefree. 

“That’s great, Brenda,” he said, walking forward to pull her into a hug. She squeezed him tightly and then stepped back, her eyes twinkling with joy. 

“Can we go out to celebrate?”

—

Brenda brought him to the Homestead, where they settled at the bar. The Gladers were performing again -- one of their final performances with Zart. Thomas wasn’t surprised to see Minho at the very front of the crowd, grinning at Ben. 

“Are they dating yet?” He asked, accepting his drink from the bartender.

“Hm?”

Brenda was rummaging through her purse, probably looking for her wallet. 

“Minho and Ben,” Thomas explained. “I know Minho asked him out, but are they officially dating yet?”

Brenda shrugged. She looked slightly uncomfortable. “Dunno. I don’t think it’s official yet, but they are together.”

She placed some bills on the bar and then turned to Thomas. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Thomas chuckled and she rolled her eyes. 

“Oh, come on, Thomas. You haven’t had a girlfriend in forever.”

Thomas took a sip from his drink to gather some courage and time. Brenda was watching him intensely, one eyebrow raised. 

“I’ve got nothing,” he eventually said. “But that’s fine. I’ve got Sofia and you live with me now.”

“Are you telling me you don’t want a relationship? At all?”

Thomas considered it for a moment. Sure, he enjoyed being loved, and sure, he did feel lonely sometimes, but a relationship was not on his list of priorities at all. Ever since college, he’d been focused on work, and work only. He hadn’t gone out on a date in years.

His heart ached a bit. Now that he thought about it -- he missed the contact, the love. Not that he had much experience with love; his high school girlfriends only lasted for a few weeks each and he hadn’t intended to go out there and expose himself like that since. All he really knew was platonic love and casual hook-ups. It was lonely at times, but he had everything he needed -- a stable job, an apartment, even a roommate. Falling in love would be nice, but a woman was the last thing on his mind right now. 

When he voiced his thoughts to Brenda, she didn’t even blink. “What about a man?”

Thomas laughed. “Sure.”

“You never know!” Brenda exclaimed. “Maybe you’re not looking for a Juliet, but a Romeo.”

“If you knew anything about English literature, you’d know that neither Juliet nor Romeo lived in the end. So I’m looking for neither,” Thomas commented, staring into his glass. Strangely enough, the mention of English literature had brought his mind to Newt. He wondered if the blond was into English literature at all -- a ticket to a Shakespearean play might be a good birthday present. 

He frowned. _Since when did he care about Newt’s birthday presents_? They’d had a nice day together, but that had been it. It was all for Minho, anyway. He wanted them to get along, so they tried to get along. That was all. 

“Hello?” Brenda waved her hand in front of his face. “Anyone in there?”

Thomas blinked, snapping out of his daze. “Yeah, just -”

“Tommy?”

Thomas looked over his shoulder and felt his face heat up as he realized who was standing beside him. The voice and nickname were familiar, and sure enough, there was Newt. 

_Speak of the devil. Or think._

“Hi,” he said, giving him a polite smile. Newt grinned at him. 

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Thomas simply stared at him, at a loss for words. What was he supposed to say? _Fancy seeing you here, too? I’m here for Minho? I’m celebrating with Brenda?_ They all sounded stupid and too personal. 

Thankfully, Newt looked over his shoulder, nodding towards Brenda. “Hi. Friend of Tommy’s?”

Thomas turned his head back to Brenda, feeling as if he was caught in a crossfire. _Oh god -- this would not go well, he’d ranted to Brenda about Newt way too many times._

She smiled at him and extended her hand behind Thomas’ back, going in for a handshake. “I’m Brenda. His best friend and roommate.”

“So _you’re_ the infamous Brenda,” Newt said and she raised an eyebrow at Thomas. 

“Been gossiping about me?”

“I just told her you live with me,” Thomas said, embarrassed. God, he should _not_ have told Newt anything about his personal life. Next to him, he could hear Newt order, and Brenda took this opportunity to mouth ‘ _Tommy?_ ’ at him. 

Thomas glared at her. 

“I’m Newt,” Newt said when he was done with his order, and he flashed Brenda a grin, running a hand through his hair. Thomas frowned - was he _flirting_ with Brenda?

“So _you’re_ the infamous Newt,” Brenda said, copying the blond’s earlier words. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”

_There it was._

“I’m not surprised,” was Newt’s reply. “Tommy here hates me.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Until Minho forced us to get along.”

“As he should,” Brenda said sternly. “You’re childish sometimes, Thom-”

“Okay!” Thomas interrupted her. “I get it.”

She merely smirked at him before returning her attention to Newt. “So what exactly did Thomas say about me? He’s my best friend and I trust him to give me a good reputation, but he’s also stupid.”

“Hey!” Thomas exclaimed, but they both ignored him. Thomas already felt left out, as if he was third-wheeling. _Great, now my co-worker is going to date my best friend._

“He told me why he hates Teresa, ‘s all,” Newt said. “To be honest, I thought you were dating at first.”

The face Brenda made would have been hilarious if Thomas hadn’t felt so incredibly embarrassed. 

“Me and Thomas? Please.” She laughed and took a sip of her drink. “I’m afraid I must still disappoint you, though. We’re not dating, but I’m also not interested.”

“Brenda!”

Newt laughed, shaking his head. “Oh god, me neither.”

Brenda raised an eyebrow sceptically. “You sure? I’m pretty hot.”

“Oh my god,” Thomas groaned, burying his head in his hands, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. 

“I’m sure,” Newt said, chuckling. “Would be a bit difficult to explain to my family and all my exes if I _was_ interested -- with me being gay, and all.”

Brenda’s eyes widened almost comically before she composed herself. “So you’re interested in Thomas, then?”

“Goodbye,” Thomas said loudly, taking his drink and getting off his barstool. “I’m embarrassed for both of you.”

“Aww, c’mon, Thomas, stay,” Brenda cooed, grabbing his arm. “I’m just teasing.”

“And embarrassing me in front of my colleague,” he pointed out and she bit her lip, probably to stop herself from smiling. Newt was watching him with an amused expression on his face.

“I thought he was your enemy?”

Thomas rolled his eyes and freed himself from her grip, but was still held back by someone -- this time, Newt was the one grabbing his arm. His grip was firm; a lot stronger than Thomas expected from someone that skinny and lanky. 

“Are you teaming up against me?” He asked, trying to sound as accusing as possible. Newt grinned and winked. 

“What can I say, we’re a great team. The gays should always team up against the straights.”

“Bisexual,” Brenda said very casually, taking another sip of her drink. Newt raised his eyebrows at her. 

“You or him?”

Thankfully, Minho saved him by greeting Newt at that very moment, or Thomas probably would’ve combusted on the spot. 

—

“I still can’t believe you embarrassed me like that,” Thomas complained for what was probably the fifth time on their way home. Brenda scoffed. 

“I barely said anything about you. If anything, I embarrassed myself.” 

“You’re never embarrassed,” Thomas pointed out. “Besides, you’re my friend, and if you embarrass yourself, that means I have embarrassing friends, which embarrasses me.”

Brenda chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t know you cared about blondie’s opinion of you all that much.”

“I don’t!” 

“Hm.”

“I don’t.”

Brenda threw him a look that meant she didn’t believe a word he said and he had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes at her. 

“You’re gonna work with him, y’know,” he pointed out and she shrugged. 

“He’s nice.”

Thomas was starting to seriously question his friendships.

—

That Thursday was Thomas’ first confrontation with the infamous Ava Paige. So far, he’d been pretty good at avoiding both her and Janson, almost _too_ good. Whenever either of them called, Newt or Teresa picked up, shutting them down pretty quickly. Even though Teresa was the lawyer out of the three of them, Newt had a sharp tongue and often hung up the phone after less than a minute. Thomas envied him for it. 

As good as he was at avoiding the phone calls, he was bound to speak to them at some point, and that unfortunate Thursday was the day. 

Teresa hadn’t come in -- Thomas suspected it had to do with Brenda running around their office. Newt had just left the room after facetiming with her when the phone rang, immediately catching Thomas’ attention.

He glanced at the door, desperately wishing for Newt to come back, but there was no trace of the blond. 

Sighing, he picked up the phone. 

“Thomas Green.”

_“Hello, Thomas.”_

Even though she hadn’t announced who she was, Thomas immediately knew it was Paige. His blood ran cold and he felt a shiver go down his spine despite the hot weather. 

_“It’s Doctor Paige.”_

“Hello, miss Paige,” he said, forcing himself to sound polite. “What can I do for you?”

_“I was hoping I could speak with you.”_

Thomas closed his eyes -- he should have seen this coming. He was their data analyst, after all, it was not a surprise she would call him, probably to pry some information out of him. He considered hanging up, but that would inevitably lead to her trying even harder to reach him. Might as well get it over with. 

“About what?” He asked nonchalantly. 

_“You’ve been working with us from the start, haven’t you?”_

Thomas had to bite back a huff and scraped his throat. “I’ve been working with _Newt_ from the start. We were asked to help you.”

_“Newton Isaacs? How is he?”_

“He’s fine, thanks,” Thomas said coldly. A movement by the door caught his eye -- Newt was standing there, two mugs in his hands, a quizzical look on his face. 

“Actually, he’s here right now,” Thomas blurted out, gesturing for Newt to come closer. The blond immediately did, hastily setting the mugs down on his desk -- one tea, one coffee. 

_“Thomas -”_

Newt took the phone from him and put on a fake smile. “Miss Paige!”

He tapped the mug with tea and then pointed at Thomas, who took it gratefully. “No, yes, he’s here, but I’m afraid he’s busy right now.”

He paced back and forth, head high, the smile still plastered on his face. “I don’t think I can make an exception, no. Call me any time you want, though. Actually, I think Mrs. Agnes would love to speak with you. Gosh, is that the time?”

Thomas almost laughed at his exaggerated happiness. Newt made sure to dramatically glance at his watch, even though Paige couldn’t see him, then said: “I’m afraid I must go now. Have a great day!”

He hung up the phone as soon as he’d finished speaking, throwing it into Thomas’ lap. 

“You’re welcome.”

Thomas fought hard to keep his face calm, despite the embarrassment he was feeling. “Thank you. I panicked.”

“I could tell,” Newt sat down, a small smile on his face. “Next time, don’t pick up the phone, alright? She’s trying to get inside your head ‘cause we’re so close to winning the case.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Thomas said, although he wasn’t exactly sure what he was sorry for. “I’ll ignore it next time. Or tell her to fuck off when I accidentally pick up.”

Newt grinned. “That’s my Tommy.”

Just then, the door opened, and Thomas jumped. Gally stood in the doorway, his face paler than ever before. His expression was a mixture of sadness and fear and kind of scary -- the guy looked like he could snap any minute. 

“We’re going to court,” he said before either of them could speak up. “Next week. Please tell me you’re ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brenda newt and thomas at the homestead was one of the funniest scenes to write oh my godkjsdhfkjd. i cant wait for yall to read the next chapter, it's one of my favourite ones!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I like pretty much everything,” Thomas said, getting up. “Except for coffee.”
> 
> “That’s not food,” Newt pointed out and Thomas rolled his eyes. 
> 
> “It’s still gross.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so much newtmas in this chapter, y'all better thank me :)

The next week was a blur of stress, anxiety, constant phone calls, Newt, Teresa, Gally, and Newt again. Thomas was sure he’d never been this scared before -- even though they’d been working with Teresa and Newt against Janson and Paige for weeks, he still felt as if they weren’t prepared enough to take them on. Teresa gained some confidence; she ordered them around, telling them off whenever they did anything wrong, suddenly twice as determined to win this case. Thomas did as much as he could, trying to help Newt and Teresa in any way possible. Even Brenda started helping them -- bringing them coffee and double-checking everything they wrote down. Despite the circumstances, she didn’t run into Teresa once, something Thomas was very grateful for.

When the day finally came, Thomas was sure he’d either throw up or die on the spot. Or both. Newt, looking calm and graceful as always, spoke to him in a low, soothing voice the entire time, but it barely helped Thomas’ nerves. He was happy with his help, he really was, but he couldn’t help but feel like something terrible was going to happen. 

“What if we lose the case?”

“We have too many arguments against them to lose.”

“What if -”

“It’s going to be okay, Tommy.”

To Thomas’ surprise, they left the building way sooner than expected. Newt had been right; Janson and Paige’s arguments and lawyer were strong and smart, but thankfully, Teresa, Newt and Thomas had lots of evidence on their side. After much digging, the three of them found a history of scamming and lying within their company, and by including the missing information about May 22nd, just before the virus was reported, they had the obvious upper hand. After even more digging came the final push; Teresa found an insider willing to expose their company for what they’d done. 

Needless to say, they won the case.

“We did it!” 

Thomas ran out of the courtroom with a wide smile on his face, unable to help himself. A dizzy, relieved and energetic feeling had taken over his body. Newt followed shortly after -- at first glance, he appeared calm, but he was grinning widely as well. Teresa only politely smiled at him before getting into her car. It seemed like, after several long weeks, she’d finally gotten the hint.

“We did it,” Newt chuckled. “Glad we got that done with.”

“God, I know!” Thomas exclaimed, turning around to face him. “I can’t believe our innocent little project together turned into all of this.” He gestured towards the tall building. Just at that moment, Janson and Paige left the building, looking incredibly sour. Their lawyer didn’t look all that upset -- he simply shook their hands before leaving. 

Newt walked up to him, still smiling. Behind him, Janson was staring at Thomas intensely, his face furious. Thomas, suddenly realizing he’d never really spoken to the guy, couldn’t help but feel the urge to say something childish to him. 

Newt seemed to notice this, because he glanced over his shoulder before looking at Thomas with a serious face. 

“Leave it, Tommy. They’re not worth it.”

And maybe it was because Thomas was angry at Janson and Paige and Teresa, maybe because he still felt weird listening to Newt despite their newfound mutual respect for each other, maybe it was because he was incredibly  _ stupid,  _ but either way, Thomas raised his hand and flipped Janson off. 

Newt’s eyes widened almost comically and Janson’s face reddened just as Thomas burst into laughter. Ava Paige simply shook her head and guided Janson away. 

“Tommy!” Newt whispered, horrified. Thomas turned to him now, still laughing. Newt looked incredibly shocked, but there was  _ something  _ in his eyes, and it only took a few seconds before he started laughing as well. 

Thomas couldn’t help the smug smile that came on his face and he playfully slapped Newt’s bicep. “Wanna celebrate?”

—

Even though Thomas had been the one to ask Newt to hang out, Newt ended up taking Thomas to his home. Thomas figured Brenda would be at his apartment and he really wasn’t planning for the two of them to meet again, considering how Brenda behaved around him last time. Thomas still got embarrassed just thinking about it. Besides, his apartment was not that big, and he didn’t want Newt to see it just yet. He seemed like a rich guy who would  _ definitely  _ judge him for how much or how little money he made. 

Okay, maybe he cared about Newt’s opinion just a  _ little.  _

Newt didn’t live that far away; Thomas figured it was probably a twenty-minute ride to the blond’s house from his apartment. He was right about Newt, too; as soon as Newt pulled up to the house, it was obvious that he either came from a rich family or was rich himself. It was only a one-story house, but the grand backyard and expensive furniture he could see through the windows probably made up for it. 

“Jesus,” Thomas breathed out as soon as he stepped through the front door. They stood in a bright, wide hallway, filled with bookshelves and plants. A high archway to his right lead to what looked like the living room, with another small door to his left and straight ahead of him. The walls were filled with paintings that Thomas recognized to be Newt’s, and he found himself staring at them before Newt interrupted his thoughts. 

“Bedroom, bathroom, living room and kitchen,” Newt pointed at each door clockwise while taking Thomas’ coat. “The bathroom is more of a guest bathroom, I have an ensuite in my bedroom just for myself, so feel free to use it.”

“How rich  _ are _ you?” The question had left his mouth before he could think about it and Newt chuckled softly. 

“I’m alright. My father helped pay for the house.”

“And Sonya?” Thomas asked curiously. He knew Newt’s sister lived in his building, so she couldn’t be as rich as Newt. Newt simply shrugged and hung up both their coats. 

“She’s a florist. Doesn’t make as much as I do. Dad paid for the apartment.” He sighed. “He lives in a home, so he’s got all this money he doesn’t need and likes spending it on us.”

Thomas nodded, unsure of what to say. He’d never gotten this much information about Newt before, and it made him slightly uncomfortable, as if he was intruding. Newt didn’t seem to mind, though, as he smiled at Thomas and pointed to the archway. 

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ve gotta go grab some stuff from my room.”

“Condoms?” Thomas teased and he raised an eyebrow. 

“I hate you.” Newt playfully shoved him and disappeared in the room to his left, leaving Thomas alone in the hallway. 

He didn’t go into the living room just yet, choosing to check out the books Newt had first. Most of them looked unread, but when he got to the shelf closest to the living room, he found some books opened and messily placed. Most of them seemed to be fantasy and science-fiction books, and Thomas couldn’t help but smile at how much of a dork Newt really seemed to be despite his posh and formal appearance at work. 

The living room was huge, just like Thomas expected, with the wall closest to the driveway made up entirely out of glass, tall curtains draped on either side. It was a bit messy, but Thomas didn’t mind that much -- it was a lot better than his apartment. A desk with a laptop was placed directly against the back of the grey L-shaped couch directly to his right. The second half of the L was placed in front of the giant window. A big tv hung on the wall directly above a fireplace, two soft-looking armchairs placed next to it.

To his left was another wall with an archway leading into a kitchen. To Thomas’ surprise, the dining table was pretty small with only two chairs, but Thomas figured it made sense considering Newt lived alone. That’s what he thought, at least -- despite the spacious house, there was only one car in the driveway and Newt had never mentioned living with someone. 

The kitchen had a little door on the far right, which Thomas assumed led to either a storage closet or the backyard. There were kitchen islands directly in front of the door with two soft-looking barstools messily placed by them, a bowl still on the island. Thomas figured Newt had probably had breakfast there this morning.

Just then, he heard footsteps behind him, and he turned around quickly. Newt approached him, stopping in the archway. He’d changed from his formal clothes into a simple white shirt and sweatpants, throwing Thomas a pair too, which he caught quite ungracefully despite his quick reflexes. It suddenly occurred to Thomas that he’d never seen Newt in such casual clothes before. 

Newt leaned against the wall with a smirk and held up a DVD. 

“I hope you like Star Wars.”

—

Newt turned out to be a great host. He made popcorn for both of them while Thomas started up the movie and got changed, stopped the movie every once in a while to check if Thomas was thirsty or hungry and commented on fun little details in the movie, never failing to amuse Thomas. Normally, he’d get bored of movies pretty quickly and always needed several days to finish them due to his short attention span, but with the regular interruptions and fun facts, he found himself enjoying their time together, and they finished the movie just before dinnertime without Thomas getting bored once. Newt had never looked this relaxed before -- he was always laid-back and calm, but this was something completely different. He laughed more, slumped on the comfortable couch and didn’t even bother to do anything about his messy hair.

“Any allergies?”

“What?” Thomas snapped out of his daze. The credits were still rolling and it was now dark outside, making the bright living room look even more comfortable and expensive. Newt was looking at him, their empty popcorn bowls in his hands. 

“Any allergies?” Newt repeated, grinning. “I’m not planning to murder you today.”

“Today?”

Newt only winked at him before turning around and disappearing into the kitchen. When he came back out, his hands were empty, and he leaned against the archway with his hip. “So are you allergic to anything?”

“I don’t think so,” Thomas said, frowning. “Why?”

“Well, Tommy, I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s late and I’m starting to get hungry.”

“Oh,” Thomas said, dumbfounded.  _ Newt wanted to have dinner with him?  _ “Of course.”

“Alright,” Newt said, standing up straight. “Any food you don’t like?”

“I like pretty much everything,” Thomas said, getting up. “Except for coffee.”

“That’s not food,” Newt pointed out and Thomas rolled his eyes. 

“It’s still gross.”

“If you say so, Tommy.” Newt grinned at him. “One last question.”

“You know, I’m starting to think this is an interrogation.”

“I’m just making sure I don’t make something you hate,” Newt shrugged. “So, are you a vegetarian or vegan? Lactose intolerant? On a special diet?”

“Wow,” Thomas chuckled. “You really thought of everything.”

“My sister’s picky,” Newt explained, folding his arms. “She’s a vegan  _ and  _ lactose intolerant  _ and  _ she hates most food.”

“Must be a struggle,” Thomas said. Newt simply shrugged again. 

“‘S alright. I grew up with it, so it’s pretty normal for me.”

“Well, I’m not any of those things, I only eat vegetarian food three days a week. But not today.”

“Good to know,” Newt said, turning around. “So does lasagna sound good?”

—

If Thomas didn’t already know how good Newt seemed to be at everything, he would probably have gone into a coma now. Thomas had offered to help him with dinner, and Newt took the offer gratefully, but now Thomas simply felt like a bother as Newt moved around the kitchen, telling him what to do and what not to do while doing most of the work himself. He’d given Thomas the simple task of preparing the sauce, which he did, watching Newt cook. Of course, he’d only know if the lasagna was good when he actually tasted it, but looking at Newt, he could already tell he was a great cook, working with knives and herbs and spices Thomas had never heard of or seen before. Once Thomas finished preparing the sauce, almost everything else was already done, and Thomas felt incredibly stupid compared to Newt. 

The blond seemed to sense this, as he smiled at Thomas while taking the bowl. “This looks great, Tommy.”

Thomas felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “So are you just good at everything, or..?” 

Newt laughed, turning around to continue working on the lasagna as Thomas sat down at the kitchen island. He knew it was a stupid question, everyone had their flaws, but so far, he hadn’t been able to find many in Newt. The guy was stupidly good at everything he did. 

“I’m not,” Newt laughed. “My mom just taught me how to cook and she was amazing. This is all her.”

It was the first time Newt had mentioned his mother and Thomas shifted uncomfortably in her seat.  _ Was.  _

“Was she a cook?” He asked, unable to hide the curiosity in his voice. Newt turned around and gave him a sad smile. 

“She was. Head chef of a restaurant. Every Saturday, she’d take me, Sonya and my dad to her work and she made us her infamous lasagna. This lasagna, in fact.”

“She sounds nice,” Thomas said, trying to comfort him a little but probably failing. As calm and composed as Newt was, he could see the blond missed his mother very much. There was a certain strain to his voice when he spoke of her and his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“She was,” Newt said, turning back around. Thomas stared at the back of his head as he continued working on the lasagna. “She’s probably the only woman I’ll ever love. Besides Sonya, ‘course. But you never know, maybe someday a gorgeous brunette will come and sweep me off my feet, turning me straight.”

Thomas smiled at the joke and even Newt chuckled. He placed the lasagna in the oven and washed his hands in silence. Then, he turned around and leaned on the island, directly across from where Thomas was sitting. 

“What about you, Tommy?”

“What about me?”

“Tell me about yourself,” Newt said casually, all traces of sadness gone from his face. 

“Well, no gorgeous brunette for me,” Thomas said, smiling. “Brunettes aren’t really my type.”

“You know what I meant, you twat,” Newt laughed, rolling his eyes. “I barely know anything about you.”

“There’s not much to know,” Thomas shrugged. “I’m twenty-six, I work at WCKD and live with my best friend.”

“I already knew that,” Newt said. “Tell me  _ more. _ ”

Thomas looked at him for a few seconds, a little flattered that Newt was genuinely interested in him. Then, he smiled. 

“Alright.”

They ended up on the couch together, the tv playing softly as background noise. If possible, Newt looked even more relaxed than before. 

“I have a little brother, Chuck, like I already told you. He still lives with my parents.”

“How old is he again?” Newt asked, genuine interest in his face. Thomas felt himself shuffling closer. 

“Twenty, but he’s already taller than me.” Thomas cringed. “He keeps teasing me about it, even though it’s only a one-inch difference.”

“He sounds fun,” Newt smiled. “He can’t help that you’re tiny.”

“I’m not tiny!” Thomas exclaimed. “You’re just a skyscraper.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Newt chuckled and shook his head. “What about your parents?”

“They’re alright,” Thomas shrugged. “My mom’s a writer and my dad works on a farm. They’re not that special.”

“How do a writer and a farmer have a scientist child?” Newt asked curiously and Thomas rolled his eyes. 

“You see, Newt, when two people love each other very much -”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Newt laughed. “My dad’s a math teacher, so I can kind of see how that led to me being a scientist. But a writer and a farmer...”

“I don’t know either,” Thomas mumbled. “I guess I just always liked science. Chuck takes after my mom, though. He writes columns and stuff.”

“Do you see him often?”

“What is this, twenty questions?”

Newt smiled at him. “Yes. You know about my family, so now you have to tell me about yours.”

“Mine isn’t really that interesting,” Thomas said. “They’re just… a family. I visit them for their birthdays, Christmas, Thanksgiving and New Year’s eve, and that’s it. My mom insists on calling me every Friday, though.”

“Sweet.”

“Annoying,” Thomas said, smiling. “But yeah. A little sweet.”

Newt turned away from him, seemingly happy with the conversation. He leaned forward and grabbed two controllers from under the coffee table, handing one to Thomas. 

“You better be good at Mario Kart.”

—

Thomas left Newt’s house at ten. The lasagna they’d made was delicious and they ate it while watching another movie together. When Thomas told him he should probably go, Newt offered him a ride, which Thomas accepted happily.

“You live in Sonya’s building, right?” Newt asked when they drove off and Thomas nodded in confirmation. 

“Alright,” Newt mumbled, probably more to himself than to Thomas.

They spent most of the car ride in silence, both deep in thought. Thomas’ mind wandered from work, to Brenda, to Newt, to Teresa, to Janson and Paige, to Aris, to the Homestead, to Ben and Minho, and back to Newt. The blond looked incredibly content next to him, tapping his fingers against the wheel while humming along to the song playing on the radio. A question shot through Thomas' mind, and he spoke up without giving it much thought.

“Newt?”

“Yeah?” The blond said, not taking his eyes off the road. 

“Why did you move here?” 

The question had been on his mind for a while now, but he never asked. Newt visibly tensed up before sending Thomas a forced smile. He could see Newt was pretending to be calm, but he wasn’t very good at hiding his reaction. His grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles whitening, before quickly letting go and grabbing it again, more relaxed this time. 

“Why d'you ask?” 

“Just curious,” Thomas admitted. For some reason, Newt’s reaction had made him even more curious, and he turned a bit to face him. 

“Well,” Newt breathed out and a nervous chuckle escaped his lips. “I guess England just wasn’t the place for me anymore. I needed a fresh start.”

Thomas could feel that there was more to it, but didn’t press further, knowing Newt wouldn’t tell him unless he wanted to. A weird tension hung in the air and he spoke up, trying to get rid of it.

“Okay.”

Newt didn’t say anything else as he parked his car in the parking lot in front of Thomas’ building. Thomas unbuckled his seatbelt awkwardly. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Newt smiled at him. 

Thomas got out of the car quite ungracefully, but before he could straighten up, Newt’s hand shot out, grabbing him by the wrist. It struck Thomas once again how strong he was -- he probably couldn’t free himself even if he wanted to.

He bowed down to look into the car. Newt was leaning over, a strange expression on his face, and he spoke up before Thomas had the chance to. 

“Thank you for today, Tommy. I had fun.”

“Oh,” Thomas awkwardly said before he could think about it. He shook his head at himself. “Uh, yeah, I mean. Me too.”

Newt let go. For some reason, as he pulled his hand back, Thomas noticed how long and slender his fingers were. “It’s pretty dark. Do you want me to walk you to your door?”

His strange behaviour caused Thomas to frown and it took him a few seconds to realize what he’d said. He considered it for a moment; having Newt walk him home meant more safety -- it was pretty dark, after all -- but it also meant that Newt, rich, funny Newt that lived in an expensive house, would see his apartment. His tiny, cheap apartment. 

“I… It’s okay. I’ve got my phone as a flashlight.”

“Alright,” Newt smiled. “Good night, Tommy.”

“Good night.”

Newt looked at him for a few more seconds, his gaze calculating, as if he was debating on whether or not he should say something else. But then, he leaned back, starting up the car, and Thomas smiled at him before closing the door. 

Newt was right; it was pretty dark outside. He hadn’t realized it in the house or the car, too busy with his own thoughts and the blond. He had to use the flashlight on his phone to see something, hearing Newt drive off behind him. When he unlocked the door, the bright light in the hallway almost blinded him. 

Thomas got lost in thought once again as he walked up the stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible. For some reason, the strange conversation with Newt from before had left him feeling nervous, and his heart was beating so loud he could almost hear it.

They had fun together, they really did. Newt was a nice guy with a great taste in movies and he never failed to keep the conversation going. By the end of the day, Thomas’ throat was sore from talking so much, but he didn’t regret it one bit. He figured they’d probably hang out again, sometime in the future. Probably at Newt’s, though. 

Newt was rich, there was no doubt in that. But he was also incredibly kind and probably didn’t care how much money Thomas did or didn’t make. Still, he wasn’t sure he wanted the blond to see his home -- he really liked Newt, and didn’t want him to judge his tiny apartment just yet. 

He came to a sudden halt, white-hot fear spreading through his body. 

_ Shit. He really liked Newt. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oop - 
> 
> something about newt driving thomas home is so wholesome to me, did i mention this is one of my favourite chapters?


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas frowned, confused. “What are you suggesting?”
> 
> She raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you think I’m suggesting?”
> 
> “That I’m in love with Newt or something,” Thomas said. Sonya simply grinned at him. 
> 
> “Well, aren’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: mentions of depression and suicide

Thomas chose the worst time to have an existential crisis. Brenda was asleep, it was eleven p.m. so no one he knew was available and when he called Minho, he didn’t answer. 

He paced up and down the hallway in his building so he wouldn’t wake Brenda and tried to call Minho over and over again. 

“Shit, Minho, where are you when I need you,” he mumbled, pocketing his phone and sliding down against the wall. 

It wasn’t a big deal.

No, it was.

He groaned and buried his face in his hands. He wasn’t even sure how it had happened, or when. Sure, Newt was a nice guy and sure, Thomas spent a lot of time with him, but he never thought they could actually get along, let alone be friends. 

Yet that was what happened. 

He blamed himself for not figuring it out sooner -- looking back on it, it had been pretty obvious. There was the obvious _truce_ from weeks ago, when they first started working together. Then there was Newt talking to him about Brenda, comforting him with his calming words. Then the birthday present. Minho making them get along. Newt promising to talk to Gally for him. The small conversations they had. Newt protecting him from Teresa and Ava Paige. Hanging out at the coffee shop and eventually spending an entire day together without feeling bored or hateful _once._ Thomas should have known. _He should have fucking known._

He groaned in frustration. Ever since Newt stole his job, his one plan had been to get revenge. To antagonize him as much as possible. To try and take him down. He put his name on spam mail lists, locked him out of his office, put wet ink on his door handle, hid his pens, sprayed adhesive to his keyboard, had him come late to a meeting, and yet, here they were, and they were _friends._

Newt knew. Thomas knew he did. He could see it in the way Newt looked and smiled at him, patient, waiting for him to realize it. He just didn’t know what it all meant until just now. 

To be honest, he hadn’t put a label on their relationship until just now either. When he realized he actually _liked_ Newt, he’d panicked and ran to his apartment, too confused to think about anything. He’d come inside and changed out of Newt’s clothes, ( _he was still wearing them, god damn it)_ desperately trying to contact Minho. It wasn’t until he sat down that he realized he was _friends_ with Newt. Actual friends. They spent time together, laughed together, had inside jokes and fitted together perfectly like two puzzle pieces. And as much as he tried to deny it, it wasn’t because of Minho -- his deal with Minho hadn’t been on his mind for quite some time now. Minho hadn’t even _been_ there when Thomas offered to hang out with Newt. He wasn’t in the office when Newt made faces towards him at Teresa’s behaviour or when they spent an entire afternoon on their balcony together, trying to escape Teresa’s stares. He wasn’t there when they spent an entire morning together in a coffee shop, asking each other ridiculous questions to get to know the other. He wasn’t there when Newt had opened up about his family and when Thomas had told him about Chuck and his parents in return. 

It was always just Newt and Thomas. For _fun._ Not for Minho. 

“Thomas?”

Thomas’ head snapped up at the unfamiliar voice. A girl stood in the hallway, her arms filled with groceries. Her face was soft and worried, her features chiselled. Her blonde hair was up in a bun and she had dark brown eyes. It took Thomas less than a second to recognize her -- even if he hadn’t met her before, he’d still know who it was. The resemblance was shocking.

Sonya. Newt’s sister. 

“Hi,” he awkwardly said, a little embarrassed. He’d barely ever spoken to Sonya before and he wasn’t sure what to say to her. 

_Hi, I’m suddenly your brother’s friend and it scares me?_

_I think your brother is a nice guy even though I hated him just weeks ago?_

_Hey, do you happen to know why me and Newt are friends?_

He’d definitely get laughed at. 

Sonya put the groceries on the floor and approached him slowly. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I…” He shook his head, dropping his hands in his lap. “I’m fine.”

She sat down across from him, a worried look still on her face. “Are you sure?”

Thomas wanted more than anything for someone to listen to him, to help him, but Newt’s _sister_ probably wasn’t the person to talk to right now. So, instead of being honest, he shrugged. 

“That’s a no.”

Thomas couldn’t help but smile at her and she frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” Thomas said. “You just remind me of your brother a lot.”

She chuckled, looking down. “I hear that a lot. People used to think we were twins all the time.”

She frowned and looked back up. “Do you still hate him?”

Thomas felt as if he’d been slapped in the face. “What?”

Sonya shrugged. “He told me you don’t like him very much. He seemed pretty upset by it, I was just wondering…”

Thomas bit his lip, looking down. “I don’t hate Newt. I really like him.”

“Oh?” Her tone was curious and a little surprised and when Thomas looked up, so was her expression. That was the first difference he noticed between her and Newt -- Sonya was an open book, whereas Newt always looked calm, no matter what he felt. 

“Yeah,” he simply said. “I mean, I used to hate him, a lot, but it’s changed.”

Sonya hummed, leaning against the wall behind her. “Makes sense, I guess. After all, there’s a fine line between love and hate.” 

She smirked. “And there was already tension, so…”

Thomas frowned, confused. “What are you suggesting?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you think I’m suggesting?”

“That I’m in love with Newt or something,” Thomas said. Sonya simply grinned at him. 

“Well, aren’t you?”

“I...”

Thomas looked at her, stunned. _In love with Newt?_

No way. He was still struggling to accept the fact that they were friends, this was a whole new level. Besides, he was straight. There was no way he liked Newt, even the tiniest bit. 

Sonya was still looking at him, her eyebrows raised. “You...?”

“I’m not,” Thomas said sharply. “We only _just_ became friends, I-”

“Like I said, it would make sense,” Sonya said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you were.”

“I’m not,” Thomas repeated. “I promise.” 

“Alright, if you say so,” Sonya held up her hands, as if surrendering. “I believe you. But if he brings you home within a week, introducing you as his boyfriend, you owe me ten bucks.”

Thomas laughed. “I doubt that.”

“Two weeks?”

Thomas rolled his eyes at her but couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “Shut up.”

Sonya laughed at him for a while, her eyes sparkling, before getting up. “I gotta go. I hope you really are okay.”

Strangely enough, Thomas found himself nodding. The short conversation with Sonya had really helped him. He was still confused about Newt and their relationship, but at least he wasn’t shaking anymore. His heart had calmed down, too, and he felt oddly relaxed.

“Alright. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Sonya left him sitting in the hallway, his mind still confused but a lot less panicked. 

_Friends_.

—

“Minho, where the fuck have you been?”

Minho sat on his couch, a mug of steaming hot coffee in his hand as Thomas burst into his apartment. He’d gone to bed with a slightly more peaceful mind, determined to speak to either Brenda or Minho the next day. He woke up to Minho calling him, telling him to come over. Brenda was still asleep, so he left her alone. 

“Just here,” Minho said. “My phone was off -- I had a date with Ben, remember?”

Thomas mentally cursed at himself for forgetting. “Right. Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Minho patted the couch. “Now sit down and tell me why you called me thirteen times last night.”

—

When Thomas finished talking, Minho simply laughed at him. 

“What?” Thomas asked, slightly offended. “I just poured my heart out to you, stop laughing.”

“I’m sorry,” Minho managed to get out in between hiccups. “I just love how you went from hating his guts to being his friend.”

“It’s not funny,” Thomas pouted, folding his arms. “I’m panicking, okay?”

“When’s the wedding?”

“Minho!” 

“Alright, alright,” Minho grinned at him. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know,” Thomas groaned. “I’m so confused.”

“I get that,” Minho said, a sympathetic look on his face. “But to be honest, there’s not much to be confused about.”

“What do you mean?” Thomas asked, exasperated. “There’s so much to be confused about!”

“Well,” Minho shrugged. “You weren’t friends and now you are. It’s not rocket science.”

“How do I even behave around him now?” Thomas asked desperately. Minho shrugged again. 

“Just be yourself. You’re friends now, be friendly. Act like you would with me.”

“He’s not you,” Thomas pointed out. “I don’t know what to say to him.”

“You just told me you spent an entire day together,” Minho snorted. “I think you know.”

Thomas hated to admit how right he was. The truth was, he knew _exactly_ how to act around Newt, and that was what scared him so much. When did he allow himself to get so close to Newt? When did he start understanding Newt and his intentions? The only two people he knew that he was able to read like an open book were Brenda and Minho. Yet, Newt was there, and Thomas almost always knew how to behave around him. And it had happened so fast, yet so subtly, that it scared Thomas more than anything. 

—

“Morning, Tommy.”

Newt greeted him with a smile on his face and a cup of tea in his hand, which he handed to Thomas. “Guess we’re not working together anymore.”

“Yeah,” Thomas said. He felt a strange sense of loss. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t see Newt anymore -- in fact, he’d probably see him more often now that they were friends, but he still felt sorry that he had to leave. 

Newt seemed to know what he was thinking, as he smiled and gently placed a hand on Thomas’ shoulder. 

“Hey, don’t worry. Gally might change his mind and give you the job after all. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m just around the corner to bother you any time I want.”

“I hate you,” Thomas mumbled, and for the first time, it was fond and not mean at all. 

—

Newt helped Thomas move all of his stuff out of his office and back into Thomas’ old one. It was strange to see Brenda at Minho’s old desk, but Thomas found himself not hating it at all. She ended up happily chatting with Newt about random things when they were done and Newt decided to stick around for a bit. Thomas watched them with a smile on his face. Thankfully, Brenda didn’t embarrass him this time. 

“He’s not that bad,” she said when Newt had left with a wink and a grin on his face. 

“He’s great,” Thomas said without thinking about it and when Brenda raised his eyebrows at him, he quickly turned around, ignoring the heat on his face. 

—

“Why did you talk to Gally for me?”

They were sitting on the rooftop of the WCKD building, feet dangling over the edge dangerously. When they’d first come up here, Newt had looked at him as if he was crazy, but Thomas simply laughed at him and sat down. 

It was weird, really. Thomas got used to Newt’s company way easier than expected and it really took him around a week to accept their friendship. Newt seemed to sense this, too; he approached Thomas more often than usual, even if they didn’t work together anymore. They texted and talked almost every day and since that one night had hung out at Newt’s house twice more, watching movies and cooking together. It was obvious that something had changed between the two of them. Thomas often found himself thinking about the blond, way more comfortable with their new friendship than he deemed possible. 

They’d spent about an hour on the rooftop, just talking and smoking. Even though Newt seemed terrified of heights and refused to come near the edge, he’d eventually calmed down, shuffling closer and closer until he sat directly next to Thomas. Everyone had left already -- Gally had thrown them the keys from his balcony, telling them to lock up after themselves when they were done.

Newt looked at him, his ankles dangling over the roof. His eyes were conflicted and he took a deep drag of his cigarette before answering. 

“Do you want the short answer or the long answer?”

“Long,” Thomas immediately said, his curiosity taking over. Newt nodded, his face still incredibly serious. 

“Alright.”

Newt took another drag of his cigarette. 

“A couple years ago, I lost my best friend. Alby.”

Thomas had never heard this name, but didn’t comment on it, choosing to stay silent until Newt had told his story. He’d never seen the blond so grave before. 

“We’d known each other since we were little kids, and as time went on, I started to love him. I was seventeen when I came out to him. Told him.”

Thomas watched him in silence, feeling incredibly confused. _What did this have to do with Gally?_ He couldn’t help but feel incredibly curious about Alby, though, and chose not to interrupt. Newt told him it’d be a long answer, anyway. This was probably just the buildup. 

“He… didn’t take the news very well,” Newt sighed. “Started behaving differently around me. Laughed at me. Talked about me behind my back. Outed me. I started getting bullied.”

He told it very matter-of-factly, and Thomas couldn’t help but worry what would come next would be much, much worse. 

Newt cringed. “And when I thought things couldn’t get worse, I lost my mom. Car accident.”

Thomas felt himself tear up. He knew Newt mom had passed away, but Newt never told him how. He could see why, now, as Newt seemed to be fighting back tears himself. 

“My dad.. changed. Distanced himself, and so did I. Alby was everything to me, and he’d left me. Just like my mom. She…”

He made a desperate gesture with the hand holding the cigarette, refusing to meet Thomas’ eyes. “She’d always been the one to pick me up when I felt down and she was the one that supported me most, no matter what. The house, my family, started falling apart without her, and as much as Sonya tried to keep us together, I was losing touch with them, and with myself too.”

Newt took another drag of his cigarette and sighed. Thomas noticed his hands were shaking, but he tried to hide it by hiding them in his sleeve. 

“It was the hardest time of my life. I started disconnecting, didn’t bother to do anything about school. Couldn’t even look my father in the eyes. The only happy place I had left was this flower shop I worked at. It was beautiful, truly amazing, and the customers always helped me distract myself by telling their wonderful stories about who they were buying the flowers for and why. And then, they fired me.”

He let out a shaky laugh and threw the cigarette of the roof, and his next words were strained. 

“I was devastated, seemed like my life was over. Lost my best mate, my mom, my job, and my dad too, in a way.”

Thomas’ heart ached for the boy. He’d admired Newt for being strong and calm, yet here he was, the most upset Thomas had every seen him, telling him about the hardest part of his life. Thomas felt the tears burn behind his eyes and blinked furiously. 

Newt spoke again after being silent for several seconds, his voice monotone. 

“When I got the phone call, that day, that my manager had to let me go, I was done. And I went and I found the tallest building in our neighbourhood that I had access to. It wasn’t that tall, but it’d do. ‘Bout four floors.”

A sudden thought struck Thomas and he nearly gasped. Surely, Newt wouldn’t -? 

Newt still wasn’t looking at him, his eyes trained on the stars above them. “I went up to the roof, devastated, a crying mess, and I… I jumped off it.”

A stabbing pain flashed through Thomas’ body and he looked down in a reflex, feeling the tears fall. he’d never expected this -- Newt always looked happy and peaceful, not depressed and messy. Thomas felt his heart ache, and he made a mental note to always, _always,_ make sure Newt was okay from now on. The thought of Newt doing that to himself physically hurt him. 

“Course, it didn’t work,” Newt continued. “The lady that lived on the bottom floor heard me and found me and called an ambulance straight away. I woke up a day later with a severe concussion and a jacked up leg.”

Thomas looked up this time, not bothering to wipe away his tears. When he spoke up, it was a hoarse whisper. 

“The limp.”

Newt nodded and finally looked at him, his gaze sharp and his jaw set. “Ever since then, I’ve decided to try again. Start over. I moved to America once I had the money for it and promised myself to never get to that place again. To look on the bright side of things. To be as nice to people as I can possibly be, because you never know what they’re going through.”

Suddenly Newt’s nice behaviour towards him despite how rude Thomas was made sense, and Thomas felt incredibly guilty. He nodded and Newt looked away again. 

“I was depressed for a really long time, you know. But that job, the one happy place that I had left, being taken away from me was what pushed me over the edge. Literally. ‘Course, it would’ve been something else if they hadn’t fired me, but still.”

He said it so casually, as if it wasn’t a big deal, that Thomas felt a tug at his heart. He wanted more than anything to grab the sides of Newt’s face, look him in the eyes, and tell him just how _much_ it mattered. _Jesus, and he was rude to him for so long._

“And when you told me how long you’d been working for this, how much you wanted this and how devastated you were when I took that opportunity away from you… I guess I saw part of me in you. and I couldn’t _not_ help.”

Newt met his eyes again, a soft smile on his face. He looked so kind, so genuine, that Thomas couldn’t help but smile back. 

He wiped away the tears with the back of his hand and bit his lip. “I’m so sorry, Newt.”

“Not your fault,” Newt said. “Don’t be sorry.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Thomas said, his voice incredibly shaky. He knew he must sound ridiculous, but in that moment, he didn’t care at all. “I was an asshole to you for a childish reason and you put up with it for so long. I’m so sorry.”

“I already forgave you for that,” Newt said in a soft voice. “I get it. I probably would’ve reacted the same way.”

He gently placed his hand on Thomas’ knee and squeezed it, probably to comfort him like he always did. He smiled again, and this time, it was a happy smile. “I don’t blame you for anything. Thank you for listening. And being my friend. You’re a good person, Tommy. ”

Thomas wanted to kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand there it is :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They shared a heated look, and then they were at it again, Newt kissing him as if it was the last thing he’d ever do, pressing his body against Thomas’, pinning him against the door. 
> 
> Thomas didn’t know what to do with himself. His hands moved as if they had their own brain, sliding all over Newt’s body, eliciting shivers from the blond. Newt responded by biting his lip and pressing his knee up between Thomas’ legs and he had to suppress a moan. 
> 
> “Damn it, Tommy,” Newt said in between kisses, his voice rough and low, almost stripping Thomas of the tiny bit of self-control he still had left, “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um. maybe don't read this chapter when your family is around?

It had only been a split second, a tiny fraction of time, but in that moment, Thomas wanted to kiss him. To reach forward and test out if his lips were as soft as they looked. If he’d taste like the cigarettes he’d smoked earlier, and if he’d kiss him back.

He tried to put a stop to it, to end the constant stream of thoughts. But his idiot brain had always been a mess, determined to ruin his life, and before he knew it, he could see it all: Newt kissing him, loving him, cuddling with him, making love to him. And he  _ liked  _ it. 

Then, he freaked out.

Newt was still looking at him, his hand still on his knee. Suddenly, his touch was hot, as if his hand was burning, and Thomas stared at it until Newt took it away. 

“Tommy?”

_ What the fuck _ ? This had never happened before -- not once in his life had he wished to kiss a man, let alone  _ Newt _ . Yet here he was, on a rooftop with Newt, and all he could think about were Newt’s lips. Newt’s lips on his, to be specific. 

Thomas was straight. 

_ Was he?  _

He was. 

He’d never been attracted to men before. During high school and college, he'd had a few girlfriends, but that had been it. Of course, he stopped dating altogether once college was over, but even his casual hookups had always been female. He loved women -- he loved their hair, their smiles, their curves, their voices… All he  _ knew _ were women. Not once had he questioned his sexuality. Not when Minho told him he was pansexual. Not when Brenda told him she was bi. Not when Teresa told him she was a lesbian when he drunkenly tried to kiss her at a party. Not during high school, when he was  _ supposed  _ to question everything. 

He was straight. He had to be. Liking men was not something he’d ever done, and  _ god, why was he thinking about liking men? As if he liked Newt.  _

“You okay?” Newt asked, concern laced through his voice. Thomas swallowed thickly and forced himself to look up from his lips, focusing on his eyes instead. They were dark and intense and unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He slowly nodded. 

“Just cold.” 

He was surprised at how steady his voice was despite his inner conflict and Newt stood up. 

“Let’s go inside, shall we?”

He extended his hand towards Thomas, who took it gratefully. A shiver shot down his spine at the contact and he felt his face warm up.  _ What the fuck? _

When he stood up, he couldn’t help but notice how close they were, and he stepped backwards instinctively. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Newt laughed. Thomas shook his head to get rid of his annoying thoughts, then nodded. 

“Yeah, sorry. Just got a little light-headed.”

Thomas followed Newt out of the building with his body numb and his brain frozen. All he could think as he watched the blond lead the way was  _ what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck… _

“You got the keys?”

Newt’s voice snapped Thomas out of his daze and his brain refused to process the question for a few seconds. Then, it hit him. 

“Oh. The keys. Yeah.”

Thomas pulled them out of his coat and handed them to Newt, who turned around to lock the door. 

“There,” he mumbled and he pocketed the keys before giving Thomas a strange smile. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Yeah,” Thomas managed to get out. “See you on Monday.”

The moment felt strangely intimate, and when Newt turned to leave, Thomas instinctively grabbed his shoulder. 

“Wait.”

Newt immediately stopped, turning back to face him with a frown on his face. “What is it?”

Thomas wasn’t entirely sure of what to say,  _ especially  _ not after his previous realization, so he just pulled Newt into a hug, wrapping his arms around his torso. 

He more felt than heard Newt laugh; it was a deep vibration shooting through his body. Thankfully, the blond hugged him back, squeezing him tightly for just a few seconds. 

“Thank you,” Thomas whispered. “For telling me. It must’ve been really difficult for you.”

Newt didn’t say anything, just hugged him tighter, nuzzling his face into the crook of Thomas’ neck. His nose was surprisingly cold and Thomas suppressed a shiver. 

“And thank you for being here,” he continued before his brain had the chance to overthink it. “I know I wasn’t exactly nice to you, so I don’t really know what I did to deserve you, but thank you.”

“Of course.” Newt pulled away far too quickly for Thomas’ liking, but still held onto Thomas’ arms. “I like you, Tommy. You’re a good friend.”

Thomas found himself at a loss for words  _ again,  _ so he simply smiled at Newt, trying his best not to let his gaze fall to his lips again. Newt smiled at him and stepped back. 

“I’ll see you around, Tommy.”

Before Thomas had a chance to reply, Newt turned around and walked away, only stopping to wave at him when he reached his car. When Thomas waved back, he got in and drove off, leaving Thomas standing alone in the cold.

—

Thomas paced up and down his living room, his heart beating out his chest. Brenda was out; she’d left for the Homestead with a strange smile on her face, leaving him alone once again. 

The lights were off, he hadn’t bothered to turn them on. The moon outside illuminated the room just fine. Sofia was laying on the couch, her eyes closed, completely still. Thomas envied how calm she was. 

He wrung his hands together, feeling how sweaty they were. Suddenly, the room was too hot and he aggressively tugged at his scarf, trying to get it off. He couldn’t remember when he’d put it on, but he deeply regretted it now. 

He was sweating underneath his coat and threw it on the floor after struggling with the zipper for way too long. It didn’t help much -- he was still too hot, and he reached towards his shirt to take it off as well. 

A knock on the door. Two. Thomas froze in place, his mind racing. 

Who would come here in the middle of the night? Surely not one of his friends. Minho spent most of his nights with Ben and Brenda was out. He didn’t have many other friends besides that -- maybe it was Teresa? He thought she’d gotten the hint about leaving him alone, but he couldn’t be sure. It could’ve been Sonya, too, coming to talk to him about Newt. To tell him she  _ knew,  _ and was going to expose him. 

Thomas swallowed to try and get the lump out of his throat, but it didn’t work. His heart was beating so loud he could almost hear it.

Another knock. He made up his mind. 

He crossed the small living room within seconds, reaching forward to open the door, ready to tell Sonya or someone else to leave. To talk to him later.

He opened the door and froze once again. 

It was Newt, his coat open and his hair messy. He had a grave expression on his face, but his eyes lit up when he saw Thomas. It struck Thomas once again how attractive he was, and his heart did a backflip in his chest. 

“Newt?” 

“Tommy,” Newt said in a low voice. “Listen, I -”

“What are you doing here?” Thomas asked breathlessly and Newt bit his lip, his expression conflicted. He looked incredibly nervous, almost as nervous as when they first started working with Teresa to expose Janson and Paige. The whole ordeal seemed ages ago. 

“Newt -”

And then Newt stepped forward, cutting him off by grabbing his face and pressing their lips together.

Thomas let out a surprised noise, immediately closing his eyes. Newt’s grip was strong and his fingers reached all the way into Thomas’ hair, pressing him closer with his fingertips. 

Thomas’ mind went blank, losing all the worried and confused thoughts, and he kissed him back, holding onto Newt’s waist. A fire blazed in his chest and he felt hot all over as Newt continued kissing him, his hands moving from his face to his chest, his back, his hair and his jaw. 

He stepped backwards; it was a subconscious move, but it was smart, and one of Newt’s hands let go of him. He heard the door slam shut behind them, and then Newt turned them around, pressing him into the door. 

He pulled away for the first time. In the darkness of the night, it was hard to make out Newt’s face, but a sliver of moonlight shone onto his head, and Thomas’ knees buckled at the sight of him. 

He’d never seen Newt look like this before -- his hair messy, lips swollen and pupils dilated. Even in this lighting, he could see a pinkish blush on his cheeks as he looked down at Thomas with a hungry look on his face. 

They shared a heated look, and then they were at it again, Newt kissing him as if it was the last thing he’d ever do, pressing his body against Thomas’, pinning him against the door. 

Thomas didn’t know what to do with himself. His hands moved as if they had their own brain, sliding all over Newt’s body, eliciting shivers from the blond. Newt responded by biting his lip and pressing his knee up between Thomas’ legs and he had to suppress a moan. 

“Damn it, Tommy,” Newt said in between kisses, his voice rough and low, almost stripping Thomas of the tiny bit of self-control he still had left, “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

His hands slid to Thomas’ waist, holding onto him tightly. The touch sent shivers down his spine. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do this?”

Thomas was about to respond when Newt moved, dragging his lips along Thomas’ jawline, and he shuddered. His hands shot up and grabbed Newt’s hair in a reflex -- if the blond had any complaints, he didn’t say so. Instead, he started working on Thomas’ neck, kissing, biting and sucking, and Thomas probably would’ve fallen down if Newt didn’t still have him pinned against the door. 

“Not really, no,” he said in a shaky voice. Newt pulled away, his eyes scanning Thomas’ neck before looking up, seemingly satisfied with his work. He smirked at Thomas and kissed him once again, sliding his hand up Thomas’ shirt. 

“You’re about to,” he said in a low whisper, and Thomas nearly fainted. He had all of two seconds to try and compose himself before Newt walked backwards, pulling him along by his collar. Thomas tried to reach up and kiss him again, but Newt shook his head. 

“Not yet. Show me the way first.”

Thomas’ brain was too fuzzy to think rationally, so he nodded, swallowing thickly. Newt followed him into the tiny hallway leading to the bathroom and his bedroom, never taking his hands off Thomas. 

Thomas led him to his bedroom, mentally cursing at himself for not cleaning it up properly. Newt didn’t seem to mind, though -- he walked up to Thomas and pressed a kiss to his neck from behind. The simple touch made Thomas forget all of his worries, and he turned around to meet Newt’s lips once again. There was a certain urgency in their kisses; as if they had to kiss as much as possible while they could, and Thomas  _ loved  _ it. 

Newt tugged at his shirt. “Off.”

Thomas hated taking his hands off the blond, but did it anyway, pulling his shirt over his head before reconnecting their lips. Newt hummed in approval, sliding his hands over Thomas’ bare chest. A wave of nerves hit him suddenly -- but then Newt was taking his shirt off as well, and his mind went blank once again. 

He couldn’t find it in himself to protest or take a moment to think. Not when Newt was all over him, kissing and touching him in just the right places, making noises that drove Thomas insane. His brain didn’t function; all it did was scream  _ want, want, want, need, need, need.  _ So he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. He didn’t  _ want  _ to stop. 

Newt walked forward, forcing Thomas to walk backwards until his legs hit the bed and he let himself fall quite clumsily. Newt smiled fondly at him before leaning over and crawling onto the bed himself. 

Thomas met his eyes once again, his chest heaving. He was sure he’d never seen Newt look this attractive before and he took a few seconds to just  _ look,  _ imprinting the moment in his mind. 

Then Newt kissed him again, more softly this time. 

“Are you sure?”

The question was so simple, yet so meaningful, and Thomas smiled into the kiss. 

“Yes.”

A loud beeping noise filled the room and he shot upright, completely out of breath. The sun shone directly through the window in his face, blinding him. He squinted, then looked down at the source of the sound. 

Newt’s alarm clock. It was ringing. 

Brenda walked through the door, a steaming mug in her hands. 

“Good morning, Thomas. How did you sleep?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'it was all a dream' trope, check


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, come on, Thomas,” Brenda grinned. “Don’t you want to go? It’s been ages since you got some.”
> 
> “And how would you know?” Thomas asked, even though she was right. Brenda simply rolled her eyes at him. 
> 
> “I live with you. If you’d brought a girl home, I would’ve known.”
> 
> “I still don’t see the point of this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i struggled quite a lot with this chapter so please bear with me x

Thomas could not stop thinking about the dream. It haunted his mind. If he hadn’t already been confused and messed up before, he definitely would be now. No matter what he did, his mind seemed to constantly drift back to what happened, and he was hit with a wave of embarrassment and _something else_ every time he thought of it. It all seemed so real -- when he woke up, he spent about an hour in the shower furiously scrubbing his skin, still feeling Newt’s touch everywhere. Brenda sent him a weird look when he appeared in the living room, but he’d chosen to ignore it. 

It wasn’t like a nightmare, a dream that always followed you around because of how scary it was. No, it was a dream full of happiness and bliss, which was _exactly_ why it scared Thomas so much. Never before had he dreamt about a friend that way, let alone a _man_. Up until the day before he’d been sure that he was completely, one hundred percent straight, but all of that now appeared to not be true. It was terrifying.

Brenda brought him breakfast before returning to her couch and watching tv. His phone lit up with a text. He felt another wave of embarrassment, alongside excitement, hit him when he saw it was Newt. 

**newt: thank you for last night**

Thomas’ mind immediately went back to the dream, as if Newt was thanking him for _that,_ and he blushed furiously _._ He shook his head to clear his thoughts before typing back a simple reply with shaky hands. 

**thomas: you’re welcome. i’m always here if you need to talk**

He groaned, leaning forward to bang his head against the table. He sounded like the most cheesy love interest in a stupid romantic movie, and he _hated_ it. 

**newt: i appreciate it**

**newt: same here**

He debated on whether or not he should answer, but chose against it, knowing he’d probably embarrass himself if he did. He might even slip up and tell him about the dream, which was the last thing he wanted to do. 

“You okay?” Brenda asked behind him and he nodded, locking his phone. 

“Fine.”

—

“It’s singles night.”

“Hm?”

Thomas tore his eyes away from his newspaper, even though he hadn’t been reading it. His mind had been on Newt -- once again. Thomas found himself thinking of the blond way more often than he should. The dream didn’t help at all. It seemed as if every time he closed his eyes, he relived it, seeing Newt’s face, feeling his touch. It was driving him crazy.

The past week had been busy. Way too busy. Thomas had spent hours and hours just _working_. It was incredibly boring, and Newt barely showed up at his office anymore. Thomas figured he was busy, too, and he was grateful for it. His mind was on Newt any time he was free and being around him only made it worse (or better, depending on how he looked at it).

If he was honest, Thomas didn’t mind how busy it was. In fact, any time he was done with his work, he asked Gally for more, because he simply couldn’t bear to think about Newt. It always led to him being confused and frustrated and he hated it. 

So, for the past week, he’d been busying himself as much as possible. If he wasn’t working, he was running, and if he wasn’t running, he was spending time with Brenda or Minho. If they were busy, he’d call his mom. Or his father. Or Chuck. Or his grandparents. Or that one friend he hadn’t spoken to in years, and that other one. The result was that he barely had time to think about Newt, which he was grateful for. 

Except the blond wouldn’t stop showing up in his dreams. He was getting desperate. 

By Friday, he’d gotten one moment of peace, and that moment was when Brenda decided to talk to him, saving him from his thoughts from Newt. Thomas thanked all the gods he knew for it. 

“It’s singles night,” Brenda repeated. “At the Homestead.”

“So?” Thomas frowned. It was singles night more often than not and he never gave it much thought. Neither did Brenda. Until now, apparently. 

“Oh, come on, Thomas,” Brenda grinned. “Don’t you want to go? It’s been ages since you got some.”

“And how would _you_ know?” Thomas asked, even though she was right. Brenda simply rolled her eyes at him. 

“I live with you. If you’d brought a girl home, I would’ve known.”

“I still don’t see the point of this.”

“You have to go!” Brenda exclaimed. “And so do I, come on, it’ll be fun.”

“I don’t know,” Thomas mumbled. Without wanting to, his mind had gone back to Newt. He wondered if the blond was single -- he lived alone and had never mentioned a relationship, but that didn’t mean anything, right? Thomas hadn’t told him about a relationship either and didn’t live alone, but he was still single. Maybe he should ask him. 

“Hello? Earth to Thomas?” Brenda waved her hand in front of his face. 

“Sorry,” Thomas snapped out of it and shook his head. “I don’t know, Brenda. Nightclubs aren’t really my thing.”

“You haven’t gone to one in years,” Brenda pointed out. “And no, I’m not counting the few times we went together in the late evening, because you never stay till past midnight.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Thomas mumbled. _What would Newt’s type be?_ He did joke about a brunette coming to sweep him off his feet and turning him straight, but he wasn’t being serious. Did that mean he was joking about the brunette thing as well?

“God,” Brenda interrupted his train of thought once again. She was looking at him with pity in her eyes, shaking her head. “I feel sorry for you just looking at you. You’re coming.”

—

Thomas had gulped down two beers by the time they left the apartment, still feeling incredibly grumpy. Sure, a nightclub would be a nice distraction, but he hadn’t gone out in years and really didn’t want to now. _Especially_ not now. He’d much rather just go to sleep or maybe, if he had the courage, talk to Brenda about Newt. She was bisexual -- she’d know what to do. 

He felt a wave of anxiety hit him at the thought and buried his face in his collar to try and hide it. God, he _had_ to stop thinking about this. It only bothered him and messed up his mind. He wanted more than anything to lock himself up in a quiet room and forget all of his worries.

Brenda seemed excited, though, so Thomas put on a fake smile and followed her to the Homestead. With everything going on, he couldn’t remember the last time they’d hung out together like this. They both worked all day and he was sure the last time they’d gone out for coffee was over three weeks ago. 

The Homestead was crowded as always and Thomas felt another wave of anxiety flow through him at the sight. 

“I hate crowds,” he mumbled, but Brenda didn’t seem to hear him. One glance at the bar told Thomas Aris wasn’t there as usual, which he was grateful for. The last thing he wanted to do right now was run into him or Teresa. 

“This should be fun,” Brenda grinned and guided him towards the bar, where she ordered them drinks Thomas had never heard of. They came in small glasses and were an eerie green colour -- it was a strange, thick substance and incredibly sweet. Thomas could almost feel his teeth rot as he drank it. 

Brenda winced when she drank it and then set it back down, looking at Thomas. “You see anyone you like?”

“I haven’t looked,” Thomas admitted -- his mind was back on Newt. The music in the Homestead was loud and obnoxious and he wondered if Newt would like it. The blond didn’t seem like the type to like loud music, but then again, he wasn’t sure. As much as he liked to think he knew Newt, he was always full of surprises. 

"You should,” Brenda downed the rest of her drink and clapped him on his shoulder. “Meanwhile, I’ll be having fun, dancing with miss pretty-tall-and-blonde over there.”

She jerked her thumb over her shoulder towards a pretty girl with blonde hair down to her waist and then stood up, leaving him alone at the bar. 

Thomas considered going home for a moment. but he knew he shouldn’t leave Brenda alone. So instead, he took tiny sips of his sweet drink, ordering another one once he was done. The bartender didn’t seem to mind, handing him glass after glass with a smile on his face. 

Once Thomas felt himself get tipsy, he stopped, standing up quite ungracefully. Thankfully, most people around him were too drunk or too wrapped up in their own world to notice. 

He wasn’t quite sure where he was going; all he knew was that he wanted to stop thinking about Newt and maybe dance with some people to please Brenda. He didn’t think he’d take anyone home today -- not until he’d figured out his situation with Newt. 

He mentally slapped himself for thinking about the blond again. That was exactly what he was _not_ supposed to be doing. 

Yet he still wondered what it would be like if Newt was there. Would he dance with Thomas? Joke around with him? Take him outside for a smoke? 

What would it feel like to dance with Newt? He didn’t know if Newt was a good dancer, but he very well could be. He looked quite lean and gracious, after all. Much more calm and composed than Thomas, despite his lanky figure. He had long, lean fingers too, that would probably fit around Thomas’ waist _just right._

He groaned in frustration and looked around for someone to dance with. On his left, a girl with long, brown hair was watching him and he gave her a one-over before gesturing for her to come closer. 

Sure, she wasn’t his type. But at least she didn’t remind him of Newt. 

“What’s your name?” he shouted over the music once she was close. She put her arms around his neck and looked up at him with a lazy smile on her face.

“Rachel.”

Her breath smelled strongly of the same drink Thomas had downed just minutes ago and he fought back the urge to gag at it. “I’m Thomas.”

They started dancing to the music, Thomas desperately wishing he wasn’t as awkward and stiff as usual. Rachel’s fingers found the back of his neck and played with the little hairs there. “So, Thomas… what brings you here?”

Thomas tried not to make it awkward, he really did, but he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable under her touch. “Nothing. Just my friend.”

Rachel nodded, probably not even having heard his answer due to the loud music. She looked bored, and Thomas tried to get her attention again by sliding his hands down her waist -- if she got bored, she’d leave, and if she left, that would mean Thomas would be left alone with his thoughts once again. 

Thankfully, the movement caught Rachel’s attention, and she stepped closer, her breath hot on his face. Thomas instinctively leaned back before he remembered that he was supposed to have fun. So, he pulled her closer, resting his hands on her hips. 

She pressed herself against him, standing on her toes, her mouth right next to his ear. “Follow me.”

He shouldn’t follow her -- he knew that. The combination of his messed up mind and the alcohol he consumed meant that he was bound to make stupid decisions and going after her would be the worst thing he could possibly do. 

She stepped away from him, sliding her hand down his arm and intertwining their fingers. She tugged at his arm -- he followed. It was risky, impulsive and not at all what he should be doing, but he followed. There wasn’t much else he could do anyway.

He was vaguely aware of the fact that Brenda was probably looking for him, but pushed it to the back of his mind, forcing himself to focus on Rachel. She was a pretty girl, after all -- not his type, but still pretty. 

They reached the stage. A security guard was watching them with a frown on his face and Thomas awkwardly smiled at him. 

“It’s okay,” he heard Rachel say. “Just going out for a smoke.”

_Out?_

He felt a little tug of resistance in his gut but shook it off. This was okay. Maybe she’d help him get his mind off everything that had been going on. 

Her hand felt weird in his; cold and a little too small. Too weak, too -- he could probably free himself from her grip without using much force. 

Rachel led him to the back door, which she opened with her free hand. “Come on.”

The wind hit him in the face before he could even step outside and he blinked furiously, feeling himself tear up. It was freezing outside. He didn’t like it at all, longed to be back inside. 

Still, he followed her into what looked like a backyard. He’d never been there before -- it was quite a small place, filled with flowers and other plants and surprisingly quiet. As far as he could see, they were alone. 

He turned around to face her. The light from inside the Homestead shone through the glass back door directly into his face, making it almost impossible for him to see anything more than a silhouette of her. He blinked a couple times, forcing his eyes to focus on the girl’s face. She was sweetly smiling at him and let go of his hand.

“Finally some privacy,” Rachel sighed, and then they were kissing. 

Thomas almost stepped back in surprise, but then her hands were on the back of his head, pressing him closer, and he couldn’t move. 

Kissing her felt weird, and a little wrong. Her kisses were impossibly demanding, she was too soft, and he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. In that one second, he decided two things; he _really_ did not enjoy kissing her, but he was willing to try. Maybe it would work, maybe it’d cheer him up a little. 

He could feel her back down, standing on her feet instead of her toes, and leaned down to continue kissing her. She seemed happy with it, sliding her arms down his arms and smiling into the kiss. 

It wasn’t fun. Her lips were cold and she was way too soft for his liking. He wasn’t enjoying it at all, and pulled away with a frown on his face. 

She looked drunk -- _really_ drunk. Her make-up was messy, her eyes half-closed. Still, she smiled at him and spoke up, her words slightly slurred. 

“This okay with you?”

_No._

“Yes.”

Rachel reached up again, going in for another kiss, and he pulled his head back. “Wait.” 

“What’s wrong?” She pouted. 

Thomas shook his head, pressing his fingers against his temples. “I just… I need a minute.”

“Okay,” was her confused response, and he rubbed his face with his hands, not looking at her.

This was fine, wasn’t it? It was something he’d done many times before, sometimes leading to more, sometimes not. 

Then why did it feel so wrong? 

He refused to acknowledge his first thought -- that it felt like he was cheating on Newt, somehow. As if him kissing Rachel meant he was lying. So instead, he blinked a couple times and took a deep breath. 

This was okay. He could have fun. Rachel was a good kisser, even if he didn’t particularly like her. He wanted to kiss her again. He was okay. 

“Okay,” he said, stepping closer. “I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

He smiled at her, grateful that even in her drunken state, she checked in on him. Kind of like Newt would. 

Thomas mentally cursed at himself for that thought and chose to step forward, kissing her again. He _had_ to stop thinking about Newt. It was getting annoying. 

Rachel leaned into the kiss immediately, stepping closer. Her hands slid around his neck before travelling downwards, and Thomas panicked a little. Their bodies were pressed together uncomfortably, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it would feel like this with Newt. 

And there it was again. Images of Newt pressed close to him flashed through his mind, burning into his brain, and he blinked furiously to get them out. He had to get Newt out of his head, get him to leave, or he’d mess this up.

The door opened behind Rachel, and Thomas opened his eyes, freezing in pure shock.

Newt didn’t leave. 

In fact, he was right there, just behind Rachel, standing completely still as he looked at Thomas. Thomas caught his eye and his face fell -- a mixed expression, something between hurt and betrayal, was etched on his face. 

He pulled away from the kiss almost immediately, feeling his heart drop. Rachel sent him a confused look before following his gaze and turning around. 

“Oh,” she said. “Hi, sorry, we’ll -”

Thomas almost immediately let go of her, but by then, Newt had already turned around and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls don't kill me


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sighed. “Listen, Newt…”
> 
> “Yeah?” Newt stepped backwards, folding his arms. 
> 
> “About yesterday,” he started, and Newt frowned. 
> 
> “What about yesterday?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont be shy leave a comment cause i worked my ass off to make this chapter work x

To say Brenda was upset when they left was an understanding, but upon seeing the look on Thomas’ face, she let herself get pulled along by him. His grip was tight on her wrist and she squirmed, but he ignored it. All he could see in his mind was Newt, Newt’s eyes, Newt’s face, his expression when he saw Thomas...

Thomas pushed through the crowd with a cold determination in his heart. He  _ hated  _ this place. Never before had he wanted to leave a room so badly. Thankfully, the crowd parted for them as Brenda waved goodbye to the pretty blonde she’d been dancing with. Thomas only slowed down to grab their coats near the entrance door before hurrying up again. The cold air outside of the building cut through his face like a knife and he buried his face in his coat. 

“Thomas!” Brenda called after him. Thomas didn’t say anything, just kept walking, desperately trying not to think about what just happened. Behind him, he could hear her footsteps, trying to catch up to his fast pace. 

“Thomas, where are you going?” Brenda said, her words slightly slurred. She grabbed his arm and held on tightly. Thomas could feel her pull and tried to shake her off, which worked after a few attempts. It only took a second or two before she caught on again, her grip much firmer than before.

“Did something happen?” She asked as she caught up to him and studied his face from the side. Thomas chose not to return her gaze, knowing she would immediately know something was wrong if he looked at her. 

“Thomas,” Brenda tried, and her voice sounded incredibly worried and pained. Thomas came to a halt in a reflex and closed his eyes.  _ Fuck.  _

“Thomas,” she repeated. When Thomas opened his eyes, he realized she’d been running after him for almost two blocks. Her eyes were wide and concerned and there was a slight frown on her face. “What’s wrong?”

That’s when Thomas broke down. 

—

Brenda brought him home in a hurry, where she sat him down on the couch that had been her bed for weeks now before rushing into the kitchen. Thomas could hear her move around and prepare something, and when she came back, it was with a mug of hot tea in her hands. She sat down in front of him, on the carpeted floor, and looked up at him with a slightly tipsy but still clear gaze, her hand on his knee as she handed him the mug. The touch reminded Thomas of Newt, once again, and he choked out a strangled sob. 

Once Brenda had realized he was crying, she’d pulled him into a hug that lasted for minutes before pulling back, wiping his cheeks and taking his hand to take him home. They’d walked all the way to their shared apartment, Thomas getting stares from people all around them. He knew he must have looked pathetic; holding a 5’4 girl’s hand and sobbing like a small child, but he didn’t care all that much. 

Thomas took the mug gratefully, just as Sofia jumped on the couch and rested her head on Thomas’ lap. Thomas petted her head, thankful for the distraction, but Brenda kept looking at him, her gaze stern but soft. 

“What’s wrong, Thomas?” She asked quietly and Thomas looked at her, tears prickling behind his eyes. He swallowed thickly and wiped his cheeks dry before answering. His throat was strangely tight and his voice came out shaky and higher than usual.

“Nothing.”

Brenda slapped his knee in response, clearly frustrated with him. “Don’t lie to me, Thomas Green. You don’t just break down in the middle of the street over nothing.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Thomas muttered. Talking about what was happening to him was always difficult for him and he wasn’t sure he could even do it. He was so confused, about everything, he didn’t even know how to word it all to himself. 

Brenda nodded in understanding and stood up. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“No,” Thomas immediately said, blinking away the new tears. “Can we just… watch a movie, or something?”

“Of course,” Brenda said and she patted Sofia’s back. “Get up, you lazy idiot.”

Sofia jumped off the couch and settled on Thomas’ feet instead, as Brenda sat down next to him and turned on the tv. 

They ended up watching a romcom Thomas had never heard of before. Brenda glanced over at him every five minutes, checking in on him, and Thomas kept his eyes glued to the tv. The last thing he wanted was to talk about what was going on with him. He could tell that Brenda wasn’t going to let it go, and already dreaded the conversation they’d have once the movie was over. 

No matter how hard he tried, his mind kept going back to Newt. Suddenly, everything reminded him of the blond, and he  _ hated  _ it. He could see him in Brenda’s comforting hand on his knee, in Sofia’s dark brown eyes, the bright smile of the main character of the movie, the coffee machine that was just visible from the kitchen, the coat hanging over the lazy armchair near the door…

It was driving Thomas insane, and he wanted more than anything to just go to sleep and escape his thoughts. That wasn’t an option, though -- the blond appeared in his dreams more often than not. 

The movie ended on a happy note; the guy got the girl, as always, and they drove off into the sunset together. Brenda turned the tv off and turned towards him, her face grave. 

Thomas looked down at his lap, already knowing what she was going to ask. If there was one thing he disliked about Brenda it was her ability to always sense his mood and pick up on signals he didn’t even know he was sending. 

“What happened?”

“I already told you I don’t want to talk about it,” Thomas said, trying to postpone the inevitable conversation as much as possible. Brenda huffed. 

“I get that. But you’re the one who always told me not to bottle things up, so don’t you dare do it yourself now.”

Thomas hated how right she was and refused to meet her eye. Brenda sighed and retracted her hand from his knee. 

“Please talk to me, Thomas. I can tell something’s bothering you.”

She sounded incredibly tired and Thomas looked up. Her face was grave and worried. Thomas couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked at him like this. 

“It’s complicated,” he whispered. “I…”

Brenda shuffled closer and touched his arm. “Yeah?”

She sounded so sweet, so caring and genuinely interested, that Thomas’ walls immediately broke down. He barely had time to think about what he was going to say before he started speaking. 

He told her everything. From first meeting Newt to losing his promotion to him, to doing all sorts of little things to antagonize him and try to bring him down. He told her about their truce when they started working together, how he still despised Newt despite all of it. Newt giving him a birthday present, fighting with Minho and having to get along with Newt for Minho. He talked about how they started spending more and more time together, even without Minho, how Thomas started to like him. How he freaked out when he realized he was Newt’s friend. Brenda listened to him speak for what felt like hours but he knew were only minutes. When he came to the moment on the rooftop, he stopped talking, not sure whether he should continue. 

“Newt… told me something personal,” he said after taking a deep breath. “I’m pretty sure he’s never told anyone here before. And I apologized to him for everything I’ve done, because I’m sorry, I really am, and he… he was so nice to me, he’s always been so nice to me, and I just -”

He felt himself get choked up, unable to continue. Brenda was still quietly looking at him. 

“I think I’ve hurt him,” he said. “A lot.”

He looked up at her, meeting her gaze for the first time in ten minutes. “And he forgave me for it, just like that, because he’s an annoyingly nice asshole, and I really  _ like  _ him, Brenda. Way more than I initially thought.”

Brenda’s face morphed into one of realization at that and Thomas knew she had picked up on the double meaning of those words -- of course she had. She knew Thomas better than anyone, besides Minho. It was a little scary how often she could tell what he was thinking about. 

“Oh,” was all she said, and that was all it took for another tear to fall. She immediately reached forward and pulled him into another hug, his face pressed to her shoulder. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” she whispered and she soothingly combed through his hair with her fingers. Fortunately, he didn’t cry as much as he did before, and he softly spoke up again. 

“I’m so confused, Brenda.”

“That’s okay,” was her immediate response. “That’s okay, Thomas, I’m here for you, okay?”

Overwhelmed by his best friend’s support, Thomas felt tears fall once again, and he buried his face in her shoulder. She responded by pulling him even tighter. 

Beside him, he could hear Sofia move, and seconds later, he felt her head on his lap once again. The strangely intimate moment only lasted for a few seconds, though, as Thomas chuckled at the weird situation he was in. On his old, ragged couch, hugging his best friend, his dog’s head on his lap, because he was stupid enough to fall for someone he used to hate. A man, at that. If he’d told his younger self that this would happen, he’d probably have thought he was crazy. 

It was the first time he admitted to himself what he’d been trying to ignore. He’d fallen for Newt. The blond had turned his entire world upside down within a matter of months, just like that, and Thomas didn’t even mind. A warm, fuzzy feeling filled his body, and he suppressed another sob. 

Brenda pulled away with a soft smile on her face and wiped away his tears once again. “It’s going to be okay, Thomas, I promise.”

She still held onto his face and he reached up to hold her wrist. “I know. I hope so.”

His voice was hoarse and it cracked, but Brenda paid no attention to it. “You’re okay. You’re fine. I get it. I really do.” 

He felt himself get emotional once again and chose to lean forward and kiss her forehead. “Thank you. You know I love you, right?”

She yelped and let go of him, ruffling his hair. “Go to bed, you idiot.”

“You too,” Thomas smiled at her. “Thank you.”

She squeezed his hand before letting go and pulling the old, thick blanket over herself. “Goodnight, Thomas.”

“Night, Brenda.”

And fine, maybe he was a little crazy, but at least his friends were still there.

—

They were out of groceries. Brenda hadn’t gone grocery shopping in weeks, too busy with work, and now they were out of food. 

Things were a little weird after their conversation from the night before. Thomas felt more exposed, more vulnerable, especially after she kept sending him knowing looks. Which is exactly why, when she announced they were out of food, he offered to go out and do the grocery shopping himself. If she knew his true intentions, she didn’t mention it. 

It wasn’t that he disliked her. In fact, he’d found a new appreciation and love for her after their conversation. However, that didn’t mean he wasn’t incredibly anxious, scared that she would judge him -- which was ridiculous, really. He knew that, but he still couldn’t stop worrying. Brenda was one of the few friends he had, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle losing her. 

Thomas took his time, walking downstairs at a slow pace. The more time he spent away from her, the more time he had to gather his thoughts before the inevitable conversation with her. He wasn’t ready to talk about Newt. Not yet. 

He walked down the last set of stairs at a slow pace and looked up towards the door. 

Then, he tripped. 

He had all of two seconds to brace himself for the impact. Fortunately for him, he was already halfway down, and he landed on the floor hard, his hands preventing him from falling straight on his face. Still, it hurt, and he groaned when a stabbing pain shot through his right arm. 

His entire body heat up in pure embarrassment and humiliation and he forced himself to stand up, rubbing his elbow, looking up in shame. 

Newt stood completely still. He stared at Thomas with a mixture of shock and worry on his face, not moving an inch. 

“Tommy?”

“Yeah,” Thomas said, bending down to pick up the bags he’d dropped. “It’s me.”

“Are you okay?” Newt asked, walking forward. Thomas winced and nodded. 

“Fine. Just feel like my arm’s on fire.”

Newt reached him and tugged at his coat. The movement gave Thomas another embarrassing flashback to his dream, and he blinked a few times before realizing what Newt was trying to do. 

He shrugged his right arm out of his coat and Newt reached out to take it. Thomas tried not to blush at the touch -- if his arm didn’t hurt so much, he’d probably have smiled like an idiot. 

Newt inspected his arm for a few seconds before letting go. “It looks alright. Put some ice on it, though.”

“I will,” Thomas put his coat back on, too scared to meet Newt’s eyes. “I was just going out -”

He abruptly stopped talking when a sudden thought struck him and he frowned. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

Newt looked at him, his expression unreadable. “Sonya.”

“Oh,” Thomas said, dumbfounded. “Right.”

They were quiet for a moment, simply looking at each other. Thomas wondered if he should say anything -- maybe mention the day before? Newt had looked pretty upset, after all, and he couldn’t help but worry about the blond. 

He sighed. “Listen, Newt…”

“Yeah?” Newt stepped backwards, folding his arms. 

“About yesterday,” he started, and Newt frowned. 

“What about yesterday?”

“Just…” Thomas awkwardly scratched his neck with the arm that didn’t hurt and shrugged. “You looked pretty upset, I just wanted to know if you’re okay.”

He could tell the second the words left his mouth that Newt knew what he  _ really  _ wanted to ask. What had been on his mind, eating away at him, forcing him to think about the blond even more than usual. 

It wasn’t just his attraction towards the man that caused it -- he genuinely cared about Newt, and felt the heavy responsibility to take care of him weigh down on his shoulders. Ever since Newt had opened up about his depression, Thomas had been thinking about it, desperately hoping that he really was okay. 

He knew Newt didn’t want Thomas to pity him. He didn’t seem like the type to want pity -- so he tried his best to hide it for the past few days. But now, standing there, in front of Newt, he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore. And it wasn’t exactly  _ pity,  _ either, more a need to make sure he was alright.

Newt’s eyes narrowed dangerously before he spoke up. “Tommy -”

“I know you said you’re okay now,” Thomas interrupted him, “But it’s just been on my mind, and you looked pretty hurt, so I just wondered if…” 

His voice trailed off upon seeing the look on Newt’s face. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to worry so much,” Newt said, frowning. His voice was cold and distant, and Thomas didn’t like it at all. “I don’t need you to baby me. That’s not why I told you.”

“I know,” Thomas said, his throat tight. “But I can’t help it.”

“I’m fine, okay?” Newt said, exasperated. “Stop worrying.”

Thomas huffed out a laugh. “As if it’s that easy.”

“You hated me just weeks ago, I don’t think it’s that hard for you.”

Newt had probably meant for it to come out playfully, but somewhere along the way, something changed, and it came out a little hesitant and forced. Thomas winced, feeling as if he’d been slapped in the face. 

Newt didn’t say anything else as Thomas stared at him, feeling himself get anxious. Within a few seconds, the atmosphere had changed drastically, and Thomas wished he could go back in time and take back what he’d said. 

“Newt…” he said, unsure of how to continue. Newt simply looked at him, his face vulnerable and maybe a little sad. 

“That was weeks ago,” he tried, hating how desperate he sounded. “You know it’s different now.”

“Is it?” Newt raised his eyebrows. 

“Y- you -” Thomas stuttered, feeling his heart sink in his chest. “You don’t think so?”

Newt sighed, his expression suddenly hopeless. “I don’t know, Tommy. Do  _ you _ think so?”

“Yes,” Thomas said without hesitation, dropping his bags to reach out to Newt. The blond looked up at his touch -- his eyes were filled with insecurity and pain, and Thomas’ heart hurt for the boy. 

“Yes, of course, Newt,” he said, desperate to convince Newt. “It’s all different now.”

Newt’s eyes scanned his face for a few seconds before looking into Thomas’ eyes again, and he nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Thomas repeated, smiling at him. “So are you okay?”

Newt was silent for a moment, his gaze calculating. Then, he nodded again. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he said  \-- was Thomas imagining things, or did his gaze drop to Thomas’ lips for just a split second? 

He mentally cursed at himself for having hopeful thoughts like that,  _ especially  _ when Newt was right there, in front of him, able to see right through him if he wasn’t careful. 

Newt smiled back at him and bent down, picking up Thomas’ bags and handing them to him. “Here.”

“Thank you,” Thomas said sheepishly and Newt quietly looked at him for a few more seconds before stepping away from him, burying his hands in his pockets. 

“I’ll see you around, Tommy.”

“See you around,” Thomas said and when Newt walked away from him, he allowed himself to look after him for a few seconds before turning around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so do y'all hate me yet?


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re not bothering me,” Thomas answered truthfully. He hadn’t meant for it to come out so soft, but, upon seeing Newt’s sweet smile, decided he didn’t regret it at all.
> 
> “That’s good,” Newt said. “I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I was.”
> 
> “I’d tell you if you were,” Thomas promised him. “But I’m having fun so far.”
> 
> “Like seeing my face at one in the morning, hm?” Newt teased and Thomas blushed deeply, hoping the darkness of the night would cover it up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just some wholesomeness for y'all because i think you deserve it :)

When Thomas got home, Brenda barely gave him time to settle down before speaking up. 

“You like Newt.” 

He froze in place, the door handle still in his hand. She was sitting on the couch, a glass of wine in her hand, another one on the coffee table. She’d said it very matter-of-factly, and he waited a few seconds before answering. 

“Yes.”

She jerked her head towards the second wine glass. “That one’s yours. Sit down.”

“Do we have to do this now?” Thomas asked, but he obeyed nevertheless. She nodded, her face serious. 

“Yes. Now tell me what happened.”

Thomas sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“I don’t care,” Brenda said. “You already told me most of the story anyway. Just tell me everything that happened  _ after  _ you realized you like him.”

Despite her stern voice, her face was soft, and Thomas exhaled deeply before answering. 

“Not much. I’ve been trying not to think about him, if I’m honest.”

She flicked his forehead. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know.”

He smiled at her, surprisingly relaxed despite how much he’d been dreading this conversation. “I haven’t done anything yet, I’ve mostly just been freaking out. I, um…”

He blushed and looked down. “I had a few… dreams.”

“Ew!” Brenda yelled, scrunching up her face in disgust. “Please, spare me the details.”

“They weren’t  _ that  _ bad, don’t worry,” he laughed. “But I thought you wanted me to tell you everything.”

“Not that!” She exclaimed, shaking her head. “But thanks for warning me, I now know to stop coming into your room unexpectedly in the morning.”

“Brenda!” Thomas hissed, feeling his body heat up in embarrassment. “I haven’t done any of  _ that _ !” 

“Right,” she said, but she didn’t sound very convinced. “What else has been going on?”

Thomas shrugged. “I kissed this girl to try and get my mind off him. And then he walked in on us.”

“You had  _ sex _ ?” Brenda said, her eyes widening and Thomas immediately shook his head. 

“No! We just made out, oh my god.”

He hid his face in his hands and groaned. “Did you not hear the part about him walking in on us?”

“Oh, right,” she said. “That is kind of unfortunate. What did he do?”

“He just turned around and left,” Thomas said, looking back up. “And when I ran into him this morning, he said he was fine.”

He chose to leave out the part about their small argument --  _ had it been an argument?  _

Brenda hummed. “He’s jealous.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Brenda, please.”

“Okay, I’ll stop.” She grinned. “But you never know.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he said, shaking his head. “Point is, I don’t really know what to do.”

“I’d say talk to him,” Brenda said, taking a sip from her wine. “But I’m gonna go ahead and guess you won’t do that.”

“I’m scared,” Thomas admitted. “I’ve never… y’know?”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, placing her hand on his knee and squeezing softly. “I’ve been there.”

To Thomas’ surprise, he teared up, and he chuckled to try and hide it. “Any advice?”

“Yeah. No.” She sighed. “I don’t know. I’d tell you to relax, but you’re not very good at that.”

“Thanks,” he said and she rolled her eyes. 

“You know what I mean. It’s always just going for it with you, one hundred percent. You never stop.”

She smiled at him. “It’s okay to relax, every once in a while. To let things happen to you and not worry about it.”

“Easier said than done,” he mumbled and she chuckled. 

“I know. But try. And if that doesn’t work, you can go back to normal and just go for it. Ask him out, throw pebbles at his bedroom window. I don’t know.”

“That’s stupid.”

“ _ You’re  _ stupid.”

—

Newt called him in the middle of the night. Thomas had just gone to bed, desperately wishing he wouldn’t dream about the blond again, when his phone lit up and buzzed on his nightstand. 

He considered ignoring it -- who would call him at one in the morning? But his curious side won, as usual, and he picked his phone up before giving it much thought. 

It wasn’t a normal call. Newt was facetiming him. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he whispered, sitting up to turn the lamp on his nightstand on. It illuminated the room just enough and he prayed he looked alright before answering the call. 

One glance at the screen and Thomas was convinced Newt was trying to kill him. 

Unlike Thomas, it seemed like the blond hadn’t bothered to look presentable at all -- in fact, he was lying in bed, his face pressed into the pillow, looking so cute Thomas was sure his heart would run away soon. 

“Hi,” Newt said, smiling at the screen and _oh god, his_ __voice_.  _

“Hi,” Thomas said breathlessly, checking to see if he looked alright before looking back at Newt. “What’s up?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Newt answered, grinning. “So I decided to bother you once again.” 

“You’re not bothering me,” Thomas answered truthfully. He hadn’t meant for it to come out so soft, but, upon seeing Newt’s sweet smile, decided he didn’t regret it at all.

“That’s good,” Newt said. “I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I was.”

“I’d tell you if you were,” Thomas promised him. “But I’m having fun so far.”

“Like seeing my face at one in the morning, hm?” Newt teased and Thomas blushed deeply, hoping the darkness of the night would cover it up. 

“Of course,” he said, trying to return the banter. “I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I didn’t.”

“You’re stealing my lines,” Newt pouted and Thomas grinned at him. He couldn’t help himself -- the blond looked incredibly adorable. 

“That I am.”

—

When he called Minho, he immediately picked up. 

_ “What’s up?” _

“Can we talk?”

—

Minho had been sitting on his couch for ten minutes, and Thomas still hadn’t found the right thing to say to him. He was pacing up and down, trying to gather his thoughts, and Minho was just watching him. He was unusually patient, but Thomas didn’t mind at all. He figured Brenda had probably told him this was serious and not just one of Thomas’ random outbursts. 

“It’s funny seeing you panic, but also concerning,” Minho said after several more minutes. Thomas stopped in the middle of a step, nearly tripping. 

Minho patted the couch. “Sit down.”

Thomas walked forward hesitantly. Oddly enough, the situation reminded him of when he was a child, and his mom would ask him to sit down for a lecture. She always brought it nicely, never yelling or overstepping any boundaries. Thomas wished he was more like her.

“I don’t know where to start,” he blurted out. Minho already knew about Newt, after all. He’d been there every step of the way. The only thing he didn’t know about was Thomas’ sudden attraction to the blond and their strange interactions outside the Homestead and in his building.

“How about you start with the question that you haven’t asked me yet,” Minho said and Thomas groaned.  _ Of course  _ Minho could see right through him. He was his best friend, after all. 

For the past week, he’d had several burning questions, but right now, with Minho, one, in particular, stood out to him. Minho was watching him calmly, his expression blank. 

Thomas took a deep breath, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants. “ Minho, how did you…  _ know  _ you were pansexual? Was it a sudden moment? Have you always known? How did you know you weren’t bi?”

Minho raised his eyebrows in surprise and a smile crept on his face. If he was onto Thomas, he didn’t let it show. 

“I don’t know, really. I think it was always there, I just didn’t have a label for it at the time.”

Thomas felt himself nod. Of course. Minho always gave the most simple answers that still perfectly described everything he needed to know. 

Except for now. 

Minho’s expression grew worried and he spoke up again, probably pitying Thomas. “When I was younger, it was obvious that everyone expected me to like girls. Just girls. And it just.. it felt weird to me, because… why would I only like girls? Y’know?”

Thomas nodded again, even though he, in fact,  _ didn’t  _ know. He turned to look at him, something between a grimace and a smile on his face. 

Minho, apparently sensing he wanted more information, scraped his throat and continued. 

“I always liked everyone, regardless of gender, and when I got into high school, I found out about bisexuality. I labelled myself as that for a while, but..”

He visibly cringed at the memory, his eyes trained to the floor. “It didn’t work for me, as you know. It didn’t feel like me, because bi usually meant liking just men and women, and my… feelings, I guess, were always for  _ people,  _ not men or women or anyone in between.”

He looked up again, meeting Thomas’ eyes. “Somewhere in my senior years, I joined an LGBTQ+ club, or something. I think it was more of a group of kids trying to feel safe, and they told me about pansexuality.”

He shrugged and grinned. “That was the only label that truly felt right for me, cause I also didn’t  _ not  _ want to label myself, y’know? So I guess that’s it.”

“I get that,” Thomas said and Minho nodded at him. 

“Bisexuality is valid, though. I mean, look at Brenda.”

“Yeah,” Thomas chuckled and Minho smiled at him. He still wasn’t sure what to say and Minho spoke up again, distracting him from his conflicting thoughts. 

“You don’t have to label yourself, if you don’t want to. It’s not that important.”

“I know,” Thomas interrupted him. “I was just wondering about being… y’know.”

He made a hopeless gesture with his hands and felt his face heat up. 

“...bi.” 

Minho grinned at him once again, probably realizing what Thomas was too afraid to say. “Being bi is fucking awesome, dude. Endless opportunities. And besides, I’ve learnt that it isn’t restricted to just men and women, so I say go after whoever you want.”

That was new information to Thomas, and he felt his eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Minho said. “I mean, Brenda had a couple non-binary partners as well, back in college, remember? I feel like the difference between me and her is just that gender isn’t a factor for me, and it is for her. There's a preference, with her, not with me. If that makes sense.”

Thomas nodded, finally understanding. “It does.”

He inhaled deeply, unsure of if he should ask what he wanted to ask. Minho was still looking at him, his face understanding. 

He exhaled a shaky breath before speaking up, choosing to trust him. 

_ It’s just Minho. It’s fine. _

“What if you… always liked girls, and suddenly, you met someone, who’s not a girl, and you like them? Could it mean you’re bi? Or is it not a big deal?”

“Are you asking me if it could be a phase?”

Thomas blushed deeply, incredibly embarrassed. “I guess. I know it’s not for most people, of course, but could it -?”

Minho leaned back, his gaze calculating. Thomas wasn’t sure whether he would like Minho’s next words.

“Yeah, Thomas, it can be a phase. You can just question your sexuality for a while and realize you’re straight after all. That’s fine,” he said slowly. “But it’s often not a phase, like you said, so don’t assume that it is.”

He chuckled. “Besides, if it was, would you be talking to me about it right now? Because you seem pretty serious about it all.”

“I’m sorry,” Thomas said. “I didn’t mean to sound bigoted.”

Minho sighed, patting his arm as if to comfort him. “No, Thomas, you’re a good guy. And you have questions. Which is understandable. And if you think it’s a phase…” He shrugged. “Then it’s probably a phase. But if it isn’t, that’s okay too.”

“I don’t know, to be honest,” Thomas confessed. Minho nodded in understanding, but didn’t say anything, probably to leave Thomas to his own thoughts. 

Could it be a phase? He’d never liked men before, so it was definitely possible. But then again, maybe he just didn’t know. He hadn’t been focused on love in  _ years _ . Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time he gave his attraction towards people much thought. It was like a routine for him; if he met someone, it’d be a girl, and if he hooked up with someone, it’d be a girl. He never had the chance to think about it until now. Not until Newt. 

Newt was stupidly attractive, and he hated it. But he loved it, and that was what scared him so much. He liked Newt. He could see it all; kissing Newt, holding him, cuddling with him… And it wasn’t just a random thought -- he actually found himself _wanting_ it. Craving it. 

“I think I have a crush on Newt.”

To Thomas’ surprise, Minho laughed _.  _

“What?” he asked, exasperated and a little embarrassed. Minho snorted. 

“Sorry, that’s just the funniest thing that could have happened. Wow.”

“What do you  mean ?”

“Just…” Minho chuckled and rubbed his face with his hand. “You hated him for weeks and now you have a crush on him. It’s kind of ironic.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Thomas said, rolling his eyes. “Minho, what do I do?”

“Talk to him!” Minho said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, a grin still stuck on his face. 

“Absolutely not.”

“Well, then, don’t.” Minho shrugged. “Go sulk over him forever, if that’s what you want.”

That shut Thomas up and it took him a few seconds to answer, 

“No,” he slowly said. “That’s not what I want.”

“I figured,” Minho said, his grin fading into a soft smile. “So go ask him out!”

“No!” Thomas exclaimed. “Minho, please, you have no idea what kind of shit I’ve done to him! He probably hates me by now…”

His voice trailed off as he realized that wasn’t true. Newt seemed to really like him, no matter what Thomas had done to him. He was always there, talking to him, making sure he was okay, calling him in the middle of the night and making him laugh. Thomas wasn’t sure what he did to deserve him.

Minho rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up, Thomas, that man is head over heels for you. He’s just waiting for you to realize it.”

He said it so casually that it took Thomas a few seconds to realize what he’d said. 

He raised an eyebrow at Minho. “Newt, head over heels for me?  _ Me?  _ Since when?”

Minho chuckled, shaking his head. “Since forever, man. God, there was so much sexual tension between you two, it drove me insane.”

Thomas glared at him and Minho held up his hands in defense. “Fine, fine.”

He smiled at Thomas. “It’s obvious that he’s into you, Thomas. He’s always staring at you, always looking out for you, even when you were an asshole to him, always trying to talk to you, and I mean,  _ Tommy _ ?”

He shook his head. “What the fuck, dude. The nickname was probably the biggest sign he likes you.”

“He -”

Minho held up his finger, effectively shutting Thomas up. “And then, when you told Teresa you didn’t like nicknames, he texted me, all upset, because he was scared he’d made you uncomfortable, and he stopped calling you Tommy out of respect for you! He’s basically smitten, Thomas.”

“Oh, shut up, Minho,” Thomas mumbled, feeling himself blush.  _ Could it really be true?  _

“I’m serious,” Minho said. “He likes you. so just… ask him out. Kiss him, whatever. Don’t have sex on the couch, you know the drill.”

“Minho!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> andddd the cat is out of the bag


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt’s face fell. “Tommy?”
> 
> A fit of strange, intense jealousy came over Thomas and he stepped forward, pointing at Newt’s collarbone before folding his arms. 
> 
> “That’s a hickey.”

To Thomas’ surprise, Newt greeted him that Monday as if nothing had changed. He looked a little more tired than usual, but otherwise fine, whereas Thomas felt like a mess. 

He’d spent the rest of his Sunday with Minho, playing video games and talking as usual, Minho coming up with the most ridiculous ways to ask Newt out. Brenda had come home late, a lazy but content smile on her face, telling them to get off her couch. When Minho had left, Thomas had given her a tight hug, to which she responded by flicking his nose. 

He was a mess; Newt had been on his mind all day, He considered calling or texting the blond several times, but always ended up chickening out. Brenda, pitying him, decided to host a movie night, and they ended up watching around five movies before they both fell asleep on the couch at three in the morning. Thomas woke up that morning with severe back pain and immense regret -- he probably should have called. Now he had to face Newt in the office, a workplace, instead of talking to him in private. 

God, he was wrecked. 

Newt’s “Good morning, Tommy,” sounded a little more forced than usual, but Thomas didn’t blame him. After all, if Minho was right about Newt being _head over heels_ for him, seeing Thomas make out with that Rachel girl probably wasn’t the most pleasant thing. Especially not after Newt had opened up to him like that, trusting him with something he hadn’t told anyone before. 

“Morning, Newt,” Thomas said. Newt gave him a curt smile before he walked past Thomas, making sure not to touch him. Thomas _hated_ it. Suddenly his doubts about Thomas not hating him made sense and he desperately wished he could go back to when they first met and start all over.

Something had changed between the two of them. Newt hadn’t contacted him again after their late-night phone call and Thomas hadn’t tried either, unsure of what to say to him. Even though they were on good terms, he still felt hesitant, as if he couldn’t talk to Newt. Which was ridiculous, he knew that, but the feeling was still there. 

He stared at Newt as the blond entered the elevator and turned back around with a sigh. Their eyes locked just before the doors closed and Thomas looked down in a reflex. 

Just then, his phone buzzed. 

**minho: don’t forget to talk to him**

Thomas groaned out of pure frustration.

—

Newt carefully avoided him for the rest of the day. Thomas could tell. He didn’t go outside to get coffee, to smoke, or to get lunch. Any time Thomas passed his office, his eyes were trained on his laptop or paperwork, a frown on his face, but his eyes remained focused on the same spot. He even shut the blinds around one, telling anyone who asked that he needed his privacy. 

It was bullshit. Newt didn’t care about privacy; he’d told Thomas that weeks ago. Him shutting his blinds for ‘privacy’ probably just meant he wanted Thomas to stop walking past his office to see if he was free.

Thomas saw him leave his office at five, wrapped up in his long coat, his phone in one hand, his bag in the other. He immediately closed his laptop and hurried out of his office. Minho’s text urging Thomas to talk to him was imprinted into his mind. He _had_ to at least figure out if Minho was right about Newt’s feelings. 

“Newt!” 

Newt visibly tensed up before turning around with a smile on his face that looked a little too forced. “Tommy.”

Thomas walked closer, fiddling with his fingers. Newt was still looking at him, and it made him nervous. When he came to a halt directly in front of the blond, Newt hadn’t spoken another word and simply looked down at him with his _stupid_ brown eyes. 

“Hey,” Thomas breathed out, resisting the urge to step even closer. Newt looked guarded, distant, and he didn’t want to cross any boundaries, especially not at work. 

“Hey,” Newt said, a confused look on his face. “What’s up?”

“Are you leaving?” Thomas asked, even though it was pretty obvious. Newt only ever left the office wearing his coat when he was planning to go home. 

Newt nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

“Can I come?” Thomas blurted out. Newt raised an eyebrow at him and Thomas felt his face warm up out of embarrassment. 

“I mean, you don’t have to say yes, if you don’t want to,” he quickly said, “I just want to talk -”

“Alright.”

“What?”

Newt’s expression was unreadable, his lips pursed together in an awkward grimace, but slowly, it turned into a smile. “Alright. You can come with me. We should talk.”

Thomas had never put on his coat so quickly. 

—

The road was quiet today, something Thomas wasn’t sure he should be grateful for. He hated being stuck in traffic, but on the other hand, it did mean that they’d be at Newt’s house way sooner than he wanted. And being at Newt’s house meant talking. And talking meant embarrassing himself.

He wasn’t looking forward to it. 

Newt hummed along to the song in the car, tapping his fingers against the wheel, looking way calmer than Thomas felt -- as usual. If he somehow managed to survive this day, he really had to ask him how he did that. If there was one thing Thomas admired most about Newt, it was his ability to look relaxed and composed in every situation. 

“Newt?” 

He hated how small and insecure he sounded, but decided to try and ignore the anxiety bubbling up in his chest. Newt glanced at him before looking back at the road. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

Newt huffed out a fond laugh. “For what, Tommy?”

“I don’t know,” Thomas mumbled, averting his gaze. “Maybe just my general existence. And for upsetting you, the other day.”

“Stop that, Tommy,” Newt said sternly. “I already told you I’m fine. There’s nothing to apologize for.” 

“There is,” Thomas vaguely said, his mind wandering back to Newt’s expression when he caught Rachel and Thomas kissing. Newt looked back at him now, but only for a few seconds, before looking straight ahead of him again and making a turn. 

“There is?”

“Yeah,” Thomas said. “So I’m sorry.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Newt chuckled as he pulled into the driveway of his house. “But it’s alright. I forgive you for whatever you’re sorry for.”

Thomas would’ve melted right there and then if Newt hadn’t turned away from him at that very moment, the frown back on his face. He got out of the car rather quickly, slamming the door shut, and Thomas hurried to unbuckle his seatbelt and follow his example. 

Newt unlocked the door and stepped inside, the warm air coming from the house a nice change to the cold weather outside. He shrugged off his coat and turned to take Thomas’ one afterwards. Their fingers touched when Thomas handed him his coat and a shiver shot down his spine. 

“Listen, Newt -”

“No.” Newt held up his hand to silence him. “Let me speak first.”

Thomas looked at him for a few seconds, his mind blank, before nodding. “Okay.”

“What happened, Saturday -- I’m sorry.” He looked down and sighed. “I don’t know why I acted like that, what I was thinking...”

Thomas stepped forward, carefully reaching out to him. When Newt didn’t move, he stepped closer, touching his arm. Newt looked up at that, his face grave. 

“Are you okay?”

Newt sighed again. “No… I don’t think so. I just… I went off my meds a few days ago and it’s been affecting me a bit. Not that that’s an excuse.”

“Your meds?” Thomas frowned and Newt cringed. 

“Antidepressants.”

“Oh,” Thomas said, dumbfounded. “Why?”

Newt shrugged, looking back at his feet. “I thought I didn’t need them anymore. I was wrong, though. It made me incredibly grumpy and insecure.”

“It’s alright,” Thomas smiled. Suddenly, the blond’s behaviour and questions made sense, and he felt a tug at his heart. “But promise me you’ll go back on them.”

“Already did,” Newt said. “After our conversation. I guess that’s the moment I realized I really couldn’t live without them. It sucks, but I’ll just have to deal with it.”

“That’s good,” Thomas said. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Newt smiled at him. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Oh, right,” Thomas said, feeling a wave of anxiety hit him. “Can we… maybe not do this in the hallway?”

“Oh, yeah,” Newt said. “Of course.”

He turned around and Thomas exhaled deeply, trying but failing to calm himself down. He was fine. This was fine. He was going to tell Newt and maybe get what he wanted -- what _did_ he want? -- and if he didn’t, he’d at least know how Newt felt about him. Nothing to lose.

_Nothing to lose._

“Sorry for the mess,” Newt said as he led them into the living room. “I haven’t had time to clean up and I didn’t expect you to visit.”

“It’s alright,” Thomas shrugged. “It’s better than my apartment.”

It was true; Newt’s house was pretty clean in Thomas’ eyes. There were a few of Newt’s clothes scattered over armrests and the back of the couch, but, besides the papers messily placed on the coffee table, it looked pretty nice. It reminded Thomas once again how calm and composed Newt was -- even now, as he cleaned up the mess for Thomas, he seemed incredibly relaxed. He wasn’t embarrassed about the mess in the slightest -- and if he was, he hid it pretty well. 

Thomas awkwardly stood in the middle of the room as he watched Newt move around, cleaning the clutter up. The blond didn’t seem bothered by him, thankfully, but he wasn’t as cheerful as he used to be, either. 

When Newt disappeared with the last piece of clothing before walking back to him in the living room, Thomas could feel his anxiety skyrocket. 

Newt came to a halt several feet in front of him, scratching his neck. “What did you want to talk about?”

That’s when Thomas saw it. 

Just above Newt’s collar, was a small, purple bruise. He only saw it for a split second, but it was unmistakably a hickey.

His heart dropped and his blood ran cold. _A hickey._

Whereas he had been sitting around the house, sulking, Newt had hooked up with someone. Or several people -- who knew, really. Did that mean Newt wasn’t into him after all? Had Minho been wrong? 

Newt’s face fell. “Tommy?”

A fit of strange, intense jealousy came over Thomas and he stepped forward, pointing at Newt’s collarbone before folding his arms. 

“That’s a hickey.”

For the first time since Thomas had known him, Newt looked embarrassed. He blushed furiously and Thomas felt anger flare up inside of him. 

“It is,” Newt said. 

“You hooked up with someone?” Thomas asked, stepping closer. Newt simply nodded. 

The blond didn’t move as Thomas came even closer, eventually coming to a halt less than a foot in front of him. 

He reached forward as if in a trance, not entirely sure of what he was doing, and pulled his collar down. Newt looked down at him with a strange expression on his face, hot breath blowing into Thomas’ hair. 

It was quite a small hickey, now that he saw it up close, and not as intensely coloured as he first thought, either. To be honest, it looked quite rushed and unprofessional, and Thomas _hated_ that Newt let someone like that touch him. 

“Doesn’t look that professional,” he mumbled, voicing his thoughts, brushing over the skin with his fingers. Newt let out a shaky laugh. 

“Well, it was only a one-night stand, after all. Didn’t really expect much.”

“You settle for one-night stands?” Thomas asked, looking up into his eyes. They were dark, pupils blown, and Thomas almost squirmed under his intense gaze. Their close proximity was _killing_ him. 

“That’s what happens when the guy you want doesn’t want you back,” Newt said in a low voice. 

“How do you know he doesn’t want you back?” Thomas asked softly. Newt visibly swallowed, and when he spoke up, it came out in a soft, strained whisper. 

“I saw him with someone else. A girl.”

_Rachel._

Thomas’ hands were still on Newt’s bare skin, tracing the hickey with his fingers. Nerves swarmed his guts, but he tried to suppress them as much as possible. This was it. All or nothing. 

Nothing to lose.

“Maybe he was trying to deal with the fact that he suddenly liked you after hating you for a long time. And as more than a friend.” 

“Oh?”

Thomas refused to meet his eyes, feeling his face burn. “Yeah.”

Newt’s fingers sneaked up on Thomas’ chest without warning, toying with the collar of his shirt, and Thomas involuntarily gasped. He averted his eyes from the purple bruise on Newt’s neck and was met with a smirk. 

He had less than a second to compose himself before Newt pulled him forward and pressed their lips together in a hungry kiss. 

It felt as if fire exploded in Thomas’ chest; the sensation spread throughout his entire body, igniting his fingers, his arms, his face… 

He wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing, he’d never kissed a man before, but his hands instinctively reached up and buried themselves into Newt’s hair, slightly pulling on the strands. Newt responded by groaning and softly biting down on his lower lip, causing Thomas’ knees to buckle. The kiss wasn’t perfect at all -- it was hungry, desperate, rushed, and Thomas was an awkward mess, but Newt held him gently and yet so tight, always taking the lead, cupping his face and angling it _just right._

They parted for a moment and Thomas whined at the loss of contact, but then Newt pulled him back in, capturing his lips in another toe-curling kiss, and Thomas’ mind went blank. 

—

“I thought you were straight.”

“So did I.”

Newt was watching him with a fond expression on his face, his chin resting on his knees, arms wrapped around them. His hair had fallen into his face, but he didn’t bother to brush it away. He looked incredibly adorable and Thomas had to physically restrain himself from pulling him in for another kiss. 

They’d spent a good twenty minutes on the couch, just kissing (okay -- making out, but could you blame him?) and nuzzling their faces together, legs tangled. Neither Thomas nor Newt apparently felt like talking much, as all they did was peck the other’s lips, sometimes speaking a word or two about how nice it was. It was incredibly intimate and soft, and Thomas almost fell asleep in Newt’s arms when the blond had nudged his nose, telling him they needed to talk. So, Thomas had sat up, facing Newt while playing footsie. 

Newt cocked his head to the side. “What changed?”

“You,” Thomas admitted, blushing sheepishly. “Is that cheesy?”

“It’s cute,” Newt said, smiling. “And a little unexpected.”

“Trust me, I didn’t expect it either,” Thomas said. “It just kind of… happened, I guess.”

“When?”

If Thomas’ face could get any redder, it would. He looked down at the couch and shrugged. 

“I don’t know. When we hung out together, that one day, I realized we were friends, and I freaked out, and then, on the rooftop…”

“On the rooftop?” Newt asked, genuine surprise in his voice. He raised one eyebrow at Thomas. “That’s when you found out?”

“I guess,” Thomas said. “You said all these things about how I was a good person and you thanked me for being your friend and then it clicked.”

“It clicked?”

“I suddenly wanted to kiss you,” Thomas muttered, “Like really, really much. And then I freaked out again.”

Newt chuckled, shuffling closer to take Thomas’ hands. “You’re adorable.”

“I’m an idiot, that’s what I am,” Thomas said, but he couldn’t bite back a smile. 

“Hmm,” Newt nuzzled their noses together before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “My idiot.”

And when he kissed Thomas again, all he could think was, _yeah, I like this a lot._

Newt pulled away from the kiss with a troubled expression on his face. For a split-second, Thomas was worried that he’d done something wrong, but then Newt’s hand was on his waist, his thumb rubbing small circles on his skin, and he calmed down a little. 

“Promise me something,” Newt whispered, his voice laced with insecurity. Thomas swallowed thickly, incredibly nervous, then nodded. 

“Anything.” 

Newt laughed, completely evaporating the previous tension in the air. “God, you’re such a dork.”

“Sorry,” Thomas mumbled, blushing deeply. Newt softly patted his cheek. 

“It’s okay,” he said, still smiling. “It’s sweet.”

He straightened up a little, retracting his hand from Thomas’ face. He frowned at the loss of contact, but then Newt grabbed his hand, tracing the lines on his palm with his fingertips. 

“Promise me you’re being serious,” Newt said so softly that Thomas had to strain his ears to hear it. “About me. About all of this.”

And there it was again. The insecurity, the questions. Thomas was starting to see a pattern -- it seemed as if every time something major happened between them, Newt started to question their relationship. He’d done it after seeing Thomas and Rachel together, and now after their first (and second, and third -- Thomas lost count) kiss. 

It happened only twice, but it happened nevertheless, and Thomas couldn’t help but wonder why. Was it his fault? Was he too hostile? Despite their rocky start, Thomas was almost certain that he hadn’t done anything recently to upset Newt, somehow. Besides kissing Rachel, maybe. 

Could it be something else? Newt had mentioned going off his meds, but he’d also promised he was back on them. Thomas hadn’t seen it happen with anyone else, either. He wasn’t always there, of course, but as far as he knew, Newt had never questioned his relationship with Minho. That was different, though; Minho and Newt were just friends -- maybe someone he was interested in had let him down before, betraying his trust?

He studied Newt’s face for a few seconds and then, it clicked.

Alby.

His entire body filled up with an intense feeling of sadness and anger. He _hated_ the guy for making Newt feel like this, making him _this_ insecure even when there was nothing to worry about. Newt hadn’t said anything else, just continued tracing patterns on Thomas’ hand, his hair hiding half of his face. 

“Hey,” he softly said, placing his free hand over Newt’s, trapping it in between his hands. Newt looked up, his face still calm, but the insecurity and pain showing through his eyes. 

“I’m being serious,” he promised him, holding onto his hand tightly. “I know we started out badly, and this is all very new for both of us, and I know this is probably scary and confusing, but I promise you, I’m serious.”

Newt’s face lit up at that, but he still didn’t look one hundred percent convinced, so Thomas pulled him even closer by his hand, letting go with one of his hands to grab the other. 

He wasn’t sure what he was going to say before he spoke up. “I… This is all scary and confusing for me too, you know? I’ve never even been with a man before.”

Newt smiled at him and that encouraged Thomas to go on. 

“I don’t know what my colleagues are going to say. What Gally’s going to say. How to tell my family, and what they’re going to think. Up until today, I didn’t even know how to tell _you._ ”

He chuckled and Newt beamed lovingly at him, slightly less tense. 

“I might lose friends,” Thomas said, looking down at their intertwined hands. “I might get laughed at, called names, I might lose contact with some of my family members. But you know what?”

“What?” Newt whispered, his eyes wide, full of anticipation, and Thomas decided in that moment that he never wanted to hurt the blond ever again. 

“I'm okay with that. I'm willing to try,” he smiled. “It's worth it, for you. No matter how cheesy that sounds.”

Newt was quiet for a few seconds, his eyes scanning Thomas’ face. His faze was calculating, as if he was looking for something, and Thomas felt himself get anxious before Newt smiled again, meeting his eyes.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Thomas asked, frowning. Newt chuckled, reaching up with his hand to rub his thumb over the crease between Thomas’ eyebrows, effectively getting rid of the frown. 

“Okay,” he repeated. “I trust you.”

It was such a simple statement, yet so meaningful, that Thomas couldn’t help but lean forward and pull him into a tight hug. 

Newt responded with an ‘oomph!’ but hugged him back immediately, fingers digging into Thomas’ back. 

Thomas closed his eyes and pulled him as close as possible, relishing in the feeling. Newt gave nice hugs, he decided -- warm and comfortable. He’d gladly spend his entire day like this. 

“So how do we do this?” Newt asked after a minute of silence. “Do we take it slow, or…?”

“Whatever you want,” Thomas said, refusing to pull away from the hug just yet. 

“I want whatever you’re comfortable with,” Newt said, loosening his grip, and Thomas took that as his cue to pull away. 

“I’m comfortable with this,” he said. “Just… us. Being like this.”

“Boyfriends?” Newt asked, cocking his head to the side. 

_Boyfriends._

It was strange -- he hadn’t thought about what he wanted them to be until then. All he knew was that he wanted _more_ than they were before, but he hadn’t labelled it yet. 

Thomas repeated the word in his head, testing it out, and decided he liked it. 

“Yeah, alright,” he said, intertwining their fingers and smiling at him. “Boyfriends sounds nice.”

Newt’s grin was so wide it could’ve split open his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anddd that's it :)
> 
> only two more chapters to go! i'm already sad, i'm gonna miss this story and all your comments and support <3


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re insane,” Newt mumbled. “Bloody crazy, I can’t even look you in the eye.”
> 
> Thomas chuckled. “That’s fine. Gives me more time to stare at you.”
> 
> “Your sweet talk is disastrous.”
> 
> “Only the best for you, honey.”

Newt was a clingy boyfriend. Despite his cool and relaxed demeanour, he stuck to Thomas’ side like glue, constantly finding new ways to get close to him. It got to the point where Gally walked in on them making out in Newt’s office more often than not and threatened to fire them both. 

Thomas wasn’t used to it at all, but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy it. It was a nice change. Sure, it surprised him when Newt went from his distant and relaxed self to the most touchy-feely and affectionate partner he’d ever had, but he quickly found out he didn’t mind it in the slightest. 

Newt seemed happy about it, too. Whenever he was around, he’d greet Thomas with a kiss and a smile, not at all phased by the stares they usually got. It was crazy, really, how easily he’d gotten used to this -- the constant touching and closeness. Thomas hadn’t dated in years, so it was strange at first, but he quickly found himself giving in to the blond,  _ craving  _ the contact even. Now, he could barely imagine the two of them  _ not  _ touching most of the time. 

The news about their relationship had spread like wildfire, and soon Thomas had all sorts of people come up to him to congratulate him, even though he didn’t know more than half of them. He got a few glares, too, to which Newt just laughed and told him they were probably jealous. 

“Of me or you?” Thomas asked him when he got a particularly nasty one from a young woman he knew was named Beth. Newt hugged him from behind, nuzzling his face into his shoulder. 

“Me, definitely.”

All the kissing and cuddling led to Thomas not realizing they’d never gone on a proper date until a particularly cold Saturday night. They were huddled up in Newt’s bed together, Thomas watching Newt as the blond dozed off, his hair covering up half of his face. 

“Hey, Newt,” he whispered, reaching forward to brush his hair out of his face. Newt opened his eyes, a tired smile on his lips. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice groggy. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Thomas said, smiling at him. “I was just wondering why we haven’t gone on a date yet.”

Newt adjusted his lying position so that he was leaning on his elbow with his face in his hand, looking down at Thomas. There was a slight frown on his face and Thomas instinctively leaned forward to kiss it. 

Newt scrunched up his face and chuckled, shaking his head. “I can’t believe how affectionate you are.”

“It’s because of you,” Thomas said. “You’ve converted me.”

“It’s my duty as a boyfriend,” Newt said, reaching out with his free hand to intertwine their fingers. His touch made him feel warm inside -- it always did, no matter how much time they spent together. 

Thomas squeezed his hand before speaking up again. “So why haven’t we gone on a date? I mean, shouldn’t I have asked you out at some point?”

Newt chuckled again. “I don’t know. D’you want to?”

“I guess,” Thomas said. “It’s my duty as a boyfriend, isn’t it?”

Newt laughed and laid back down, pulling Thomas closer by his waist. “I’d sue you for plagiarism if you weren’t so damn cute.”

—

As it turned out, planning a date for Newt was one of the hardest things Thomas had ever done. The blond kept telling him it was fine, that he didn’t need anything special, but Thomas freaked out either way. Suddenly, every idea he came up with was stupid and lame and every not-so-lame idea was way too expensive. His friends didn’t help much, either: Minho told him to just take him to his apartment to have sex, and Brenda suggested taking him to a fancy restaurant Thomas  _ definitely  _ could not afford. 

By Friday, he’d lost all hope, and was seriously considering moving to another country and changing his name. Even Newt’s soothing words didn’t help -- they only reminded him of his failed attempts to come up with a good idea for a date. 

He was walking up the stairs to his apartment, searching for date ideas on his phone, when his body collided with someone else’s. 

“Oi!”

The collision would’ve sent him flying down the stairs if a hand hadn’t reached out and grabbed him, preventing him from falling. He looked up from his screen gratefully and came face to face with Sonya. She grinned at him. 

“I can’t believe I just saved my brothers’ boyfriend’s life. Newt owes me.”

“Thanks,” Thomas said sheepishly, standing up straight and pocketing his phone. She was watching him curiously, head cocked to the side. 

“You look stressed.”

“I am,” Thomas admitted. He hesitated, then added: “I’m trying to plan a date for Newt.”

“Aw,” she cooed. “Good luck with that. Is it a surprise?”

“It’s even a surprise to me,” Thomas mumbled. “I have no idea what to do.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Sonya said, her voice full of confidence. “Newt’s usually not easy to please, but it’s different with you. I bet you could take him to a shitty restaurant in a bad neighbourhood and he’d still look at you like you personally hung the moon and stars.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “You’re just saying that to comfort me.”

“Well, yes, but it’s also true.” She grinned. “Trust me, you’ll be fine. Just take him to a place that’s special to you and you’re good.”

She patted his shoulder and smiled before walking away, leaving Thomas alone on the staircase. 

He stood in silence for three minutes before the perfect idea struck him.

—

“Can I take the blindfold off now?”

“No,” Thomas said sternly, glancing at Newt’s side of the car. “Don’t take it off until I tell you to, that was the deal.”

“This is starting to feel like a kidnapping,” Newt mumbled, but he had a smile on his face. 

“You abducted me to that coffee shop, now it’s my turn,” Thomas chuckled. “Just wait and see. Or don’t.”

Thomas couldn’t see his face, but he knew Newt rolled his eyes at him. 

When Thomas figured out what he wanted to do, it took him another few days to convince Minho, Brenda, Sonya and Gally to help him. Minho had thrown a party to celebrate him joining the Gladers, inviting every WCKD employee, and Brenda helped him organize the whole thing. Sonya helped Thomas shop, pointing out everything she knew Newt liked, after which she helped Thomas bring it to their destination and set it up with him. Gally handed him the keys to WCKD with a scowl on his face that only faded a little when Thomas promised him they would stop making out in Newt’s office. 

_ A place that’s special to you.  _

What better place than the one where he realized he liked Newt?

Okay, fine, it wasn’t the most romantic place, but it meant a lot to him. They met at WCKD, they became friends at WCKD and Thomas found out he had feelings for him on the rooftop of the WCKD building. And it didn’t matter how romantic the place looked -- Sonya had helped him  _ make _ it romantic.

It was quite a struggle to get Newt out of the car and lead him inside while he was blindfolded. Thomas carefully guided him towards the elevator, making sure the blindfold was still tightly wrapped around his head. 

“It smells familiar in here.”

“Shh.”

Newt stood completely still, a slight smile on his face, until the elevator stopped and binged. Thomas placed his hands on Newt's waist, pushing him to step forward. 

The outside air was warm and Thomas thanked all the gods in the universe that the wind wasn’t too strong. 

He guided Newt to the right spot before telling him to stop. 

“I’m scared, Tommy,” the blond chuckled. “Can I take it off now?”

“I’ll do it,” Thomas said, fiddling with the tight knot on the back of Newt’s head. After a few seconds, he managed to untie it, and the blindfold fell down onto Newt’s shoulders. 

Newt’s face was frozen in pure shock as he looked at the dark rooftop. Dozens of small, white candles surrounded them (Thomas figured it was probably a fire hazard, but he didn’t care all that much) leaving one spot open where Thomas had placed a blanket and a basket filled with fruit, bread, cheese and a bottle of wine Sonya had told him Newt would like. 

Newt turned in a slow circle, taking everything in, before meeting Thomas’ eyes. He looked incredibly stunned by the whole ordeal and Thomas felt himself smile at the sight. 

“Tommy,” Newt whispered, his voice full of awe. 

“Come on,” Thomas said, holding out his hand for Newt to take. He did, and Thomas sat down with him, taking the bottle of wine out of the basket. 

“I can’t believe you did all this,” Newt laughed, his voice a little shaky. Thomas shrugged. 

“I wanted it to be special.”

“I told you I didn’t need anything special,” Newt said, but he didn’t sound like he minded it all that much. Thomas smiled and handed him a wine glass, which he took with shaky hands. 

“And I told you I wanted to do something special. It is our first date, after all.”

“You’re insane,” Newt mumbled. “Bloody crazy, I can’t even look you in the eye.”

Thomas chuckled. “That’s fine. Gives me more time to stare at you.”

“Your sweet talk is disastrous.”

“Only the best for you, honey.”

Newt swatted at his head and almost spilled his drink. 

—

They spent hours on the rooftop, just talking, eating and kissing. The basket became emptier and emptier until all that was left were two peaches, which they devoured within the blink of an eye. 

Newt laid down at some point, his hand holding the wine glass resting on his stomach, going up and down with every breath he took. His eyes were closed and his expression was peaceful, almost as if he was asleep. Thomas simply stared at him, captivated by his beauty. 

“Stop staring like a creep,” Newt said, opening one eye to look at Thomas. 

“When did you start liking me?”

Thomas hadn’t meant to actually ask the question that had been haunting his mind, but now that he did, he didn’t regret it one bit. He knew that Minho thought he’d been head over heels since the start, but Thomas found that hard to believe. It would be quite masochistic, after all. 

Newt frowned and Thomas could almost hear him think. “You mean like friends or more?”

Thomas gave it a few seconds of thought before answering. “Both.”

“Well,” Newt said, closing his eyes again, “I never really disliked you. I just thought your attempts to bring me down were amusing.”

“Can we not talk about that, ever again?” Thomas groaned, burying his face in his hands out of pure embarrassment. The action caused Newt to laugh and open his eyes before sitting up. 

“But I enjoy embarrassing you,” he grinned, pulling Thomas’ hands away. “It’s funny.”

“To you,” Thomas grumbled. Newt pressed a short kiss to his knuckles. 

“I realized I enjoyed spending time with you when I told you I knew what you’d been doing all along and you got all embarrassed,” he said. “I just looked at you and thought wow, he’s adorable.”

He grinned. “And I realized I was attracted to you when I called you on your birthday and you actually showed up, and then you started rambling about what we could and couldn’t do about the whole Janson and Paige thing.”

Newt smiled and looked at the sky above them, probably relishing in the memory. “It took me all my mental strength to not get up and tear your clothes off, right there and then.”

Thomas choked on his wine, almost spitting it out all over Newt. He started coughing frantically as Newt watched him with a smirk on his face, patting his back. 

“Oh my god,” Thomas managed to choke out after a few seconds. “Sorry, I was just not expecting that.”

“That being the moment or me wanting to tear your clothes off?” Newt asked curiously, his head cocked to the side. 

Thomas took a deep breath before composing himself, his throat burning from all the coughing. “Both.” 

“Well, what can I say,” Newt shrugged. “You did look very hot.”

Thomas was sure he’d never been this flustered before.

—

The second half of the date involved Thomas, Newt and two water guns. 

—

They made love that night, Thomas an awkward mess, Newt incredibly calm and gentle. They cuddled for a long time afterwards, arms wrapped around each other. Thomas’ last thought before he drifted off to sleep was  _ this feels right.  _

—

Thomas met Newt’s dad over facetime. 

On accident. 

Newt had been in the shower when his phone buzzed and Thomas, being the idiot he was, picked it up thinking it was probably Sonya. 

An old man showed up on the screen, frowning at Thomas. He had the same brown eyes as Newt, although a little smaller, and his hair was thin and gray. One glance at his surroundings told Thomas he was seated in a little café full of elderly people.

“Who are you and what have you done to my son?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluff, fluff, fluff... what can i say, i love them and they deserve it


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt’s hand circled around his waist and he pulled him closer, scrunching up his face. “You’re all sweaty.”
> 
> “Blame Brenda,” Thomas said, pouting. “She’s the one that decided to move out of nowhere.”
> 
> “I’ve been planning this for two months!” Brenda exclaimed from the couch, but Thomas ignored her. 

**_Three months later_ **

“Thomas, stop kissing your boyfriend and help me!”

Thomas groaned in frustration as he was forced to pull away from Newt. Newt simply laughed, turning around to face Brenda, who was standing in the doorway to Thomas’ bedroom, her hands on her hips. 

“Is it your life goal to walk into my room at the most inappropriate times?” He asked dramatically and she raised her eyebrows. 

“You’re both fully clothed and not anywhere near your bed, I don’t see this as inappropriate,” she pointed out and Thomas glared at her. 

“Doesn’t mean -”

“No,” she cut him off, pointing her finger at him threateningly. “You promised to help me move my stuff out, Thomas Green, and you’re not backing out now. You can have sex with your boyfriend when we’re done.”

“It’s great when she talks about me like I’m not there,” Newt smiled, looking at Thomas over his shoulder. “Makes me feel so loved.”

“Oh, you’re loved, alright,” Brenda said, rolling her eyes. “But I need your help with this, so hurry up.”

She left the room and disappeared out of sight, leaving the two of them alone. 

Newt pouted at him. “I guess we better help.”

“I don’t want to,” Thomas whined. “She’s got Minho and Ben, I don’t know why she needs us, too.”

“She probably just wants to make sure we don’t hook up while she’s saying goodbye,” Newt said, stepping forward and taking his hands. He pressed a short kiss to Thomas’ lips before walking backwards, pulling him along. “Come on, Tommy. If we work together, we’ll be done pretty soon.”

—

Turns out, packing with five people was incredibly easy and before he knew it, all of Brenda’s stuff had been moved into cardboard boxes, that they were now carrying to Minho’s car. Out of all of their cars, his was the biggest, so Brenda immediately appointed it to be their mode of transport for the day. 

Still, it was a pretty tight fit, especially considering how tall all the boys were. Minho ended up driving, Ben sitting in the front passenger’s seat and Thomas, Newt and Brenda were squeezed together in the backseat. Brenda insisted on sitting between them, to, in her words, ‘prevent them from giving each other a handjob while she was moving’.

It was a rather short drive; the apartment Brenda had found was probably less than ten minutes away from Thomas’ one. Brenda was watching him and Newt the entire time, her face stern and smug. 

Once Minho had parked his car, it took them another half hour to move all the boxes from the car into the apartment. Brenda had unfortunately chosen to live on the very top floor -- of a building with no elevator. 

Thomas cursed her under his breath while dragging the last box upstairs. For some reason, he had offered to take the heaviest ones, and he was seriously regretting it now. 

Brenda’s apartment was smaller than Thomas’ one, but still an okay size. It had a tiny kitchen-and-living-room combination, with two doors to his right leading to presumably her bedroom and bathroom. He closed the door with his foot, sighing deeply as he placed the box on the kitchen counter. 

“Never again,” he sternly said, pointing at Brenda, who was sprawled over the couch. She smiled at him. 

“Why not? I had fun.”

He glared at her and let himself fall on the soft carpet, right next to Newt. Minho and Ben had taken over the small loveseat next to Brenda, legs tangled together. 

Newt’s hand circled around his waist and he pulled him closer, scrunching up his face. “You’re all sweaty.”

“Blame Brenda,” Thomas said, pouting. “She’s the one that decided to move out of nowhere.”

“I’ve been planning this for two months!” Brenda exclaimed from the couch, but Thomas ignored her. 

Newt’s fingers moved up and down his arms and he shivered, which resulted in Newt smirking at him. He leaned in for a kiss, but just then, a pillow hit both of their faces. 

“Not on my newly carpeted floor!”

—

Thomas came home to a strangely empty apartment. He stood in the doorway for a few seconds, Sofia circling around his feet. 

It was weird. He’d gotten so used to Brenda’s presence, that now that she was gone, it felt like something was missing. He wasn’t sure how he’d lived on his own before -- no roommate, no boyfriend, nothing. He couldn’t even imagine it at this point. 

Newt’s arms circled around his waist and he felt him press a kiss to his neck. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Thomas said, leaning back into his touch. “I just can’t believe she’s gone.”

Newt hummed and buried his face in his shoulder. “I get that. It must feel weird.”

“It is,” Thomas said, reaching up to intertwine his fingers with Newt’s. “Kind of lonely. Empty.”

Newt nodded and straightened up behind him before walking around him and placing his arms over Thomas’ shoulders, resting their foreheads together. Thomas smiled at him.

It hit him once again how comfortable it all was -- just him and Newt, peaceful and happy. Their relationship was strange like that; relaxed, content, with lots of cuddling. They had the occasional fight, of course, but even then, they were relatively calm. Thomas figured it was Newt’s influence -- he found himself adjusting to Newt’s lifestyle incredibly quickly. No rush. No stress. It was different than what he was used to, but he loved it.

“It’s all changing pretty fast, isn’t it?” Newt asked, perfectly guessing what Thomas was thinking about -- as usual. “Minho’s in a band, Brenda’s divorced and moved out  _ and  _ has a job, all on her own.”

Thomas nodded. “I can’t believe it sometimes.”

Newt gave him a short kiss before pulling away with a grin on his face, sliding his hands down Thomas’ torso. “You know what I can’t believe?”

“What?” Thomas asked, unable to stop himself from smiling. 

“That we’ve been together for four months and I  _ still  _ haven’t met the infamous Chuck.”

—

After much begging, pleading, puppy eyes, kissing and convincing Thomas it would be fine, Thomas grumpily gave in to Newt. The blond happily smiled at him and kissed him all over his face, telling him just how grateful he was for the green light. 

“They’re gonna embarrass me,” Thomas whined as Newt peppered him with tiny kisses. “You’re not gonna like me anymore after meeting them.”

“I could never not like you,” Newt mumbled, capturing his lips in a gentle and slow kiss. 

“You know, you’re gonna have to do a  _ lot  _ to prove that,” Thomas teased. He hadn’t meant for it to come out the way it did, and as soon as he saw a cunning, dark look cross Newt’s face, he knew he’d made a mistake.

Or maybe not a mistake. 

An amazing decision, really. 

—

Newt invited Thomas’ family to his house, renting extra chairs and a bigger table for the occasion. They spent about an hour moving furniture around to make it fit, another hour preparing all the food Newt had planned and twenty minutes making out on Newt’s bed, until the doorbell rang, announcing that the worst night of Thomas’ life was about to begin. 

Newt helped him off the bed and squeezed his hand, giving him one of his comforting smiles. 

“It’s alright, Tommy. I promise it’ll be fine.”

He disappeared into the kitchen then, probably to set the table, and Thomas opened the door, nerves swarming in his chest. 

Thomas’ mother greeted him with a shriek and flung her arms around his neck, not even bothering to be formal. 

“Thomas! I missed you so much!”

Thomas awkwardly hugged her back, rolling his eyes at Chuck who stood behind her, his arms folded. “Hi to you, too, mom.”

She let go and squeezed his cheeks, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “It’s good to see you, honey.” 

Thomas’ dad pulled him into a short hug. “Hi, Thomas.”

Thankfully, he let go way sooner than his mom and Thomas smiled at him. “Hey, dad.”

“Don’t hug me as well,” Chuck warned him, and Thomas grinned and ruffled his curly brown hair. 

“I wouldn’t dare.”

He let them inside and none of them bothered to hide their surprise at the expensive interior of the house. After many ooh’s and aah’s, he took their coats and hung them on the coat rack, desperately wishing for them to quiet down a bit. 

“You got yourself a rich one, Thomas,” his mom whispered while admiring the tall bookshelves. “What’s her name?”

Thomas froze in his spot and felt the blood drain from his face. “Um…”

He panicked, suddenly remembering that he hadn’t actually told them Newt was a guy yet. When he called them to invite them, he just said he wanted them to meet someone, and his mom had been way too excited for him to ruin her good mood by telling her her son was bisexual. 

Just then, Newt stepped into the hallway, a wide smile on his face. “Hello there. You must be Thomas’ family.”

Thomas' mom looked at him as if she’d seen a ghost and Thomas looked down, feeling himself blush. 

Newt stepped forward, extending his hand towards his mom, who shook it with a shocked expression on her face. Thankfully, Newt didn’t acknowledge it. 

“You must be Mary. I’m Newt.”

—

Once his mother got over the initial shock of Newt being a  _ man,  _ she seemed to relax, praising his house, his food, his good looks, his accent, and pretty much everything she could come up with. Thomas was incredibly embarrassed, but Newt took the compliments with a smile on his face, always charming, always calm and handsome. Chuck took a liking to him, too -- he quickly got caught up in a conversation with Newt about the Harry Potter movies while Thomas simply watched. 

During the entire meal, his dad had been unusually quiet, and Thomas feared what would happen once Newt disappeared out of sight. He knew his dad was a nice guy and he wasn’t homophobic at all, but his own son liking men must be completely different. Thomas mostly tried to avoid his gaze, choosing to catch up with his mother instead. 

“Where did you and Thomas meet?” His mom asked when Thomas started cleaning the table and bringing plates to the kitchen. 

“Work,” Newt said, smiling at Thomas. “We worked together for a couple weeks.”

“Really?” His mom asked. “What did you work on?”

As Newt told her the incredibly long story about Janson and Paige, Thomas’ father stood up, following him into the kitchen. Thomas could feel his eyes on him, but decided to ignore him, placing the dishes in the sink. When he turned around to grab dessert, though, his father was right in front of him, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Hey,” Thomas said, dreading what his father was about to ask. 

“You’re gay?”

_ There it was. _

Thomas shook his head and his father raised his eyebrows. “Bi?”

Thomas nodded, not trusting himself enough to speak. His throat was tight and his voice would definitely break if he did speak up, giving away just how nervous he was. 

“Okay,” his father said, strangely calm. Thomas frowned, surprised by the sudden mood change. 

“You’re not mad?”

His father smiled at that and shook his head. Thomas let out a shaky breath, feeling as if a heavy weight had just been lifted off his chest. 

“I’m not mad,” his father said. “Just surprised, I guess. But I want you to be happy, and he seems to make you happy.” 

He squeezed Thomas’ shoulder and left the kitchen, leaving Thomas alone with his thoughts. 

Did Newt make him happy? 

Oddly enough, the answer came to him almost immediately. Newt made him  _ incredibly  _ happy, every single day. And it wasn’t just their closeness and the constant touching that Thomas enjoyed -- it was everything about him. His eyes, his hair, his smile, his humour, his caring personality, how calm he was in every situation. He had a kind heart, always open to new possibilities it and never broke a promise -- he even got Gally to reconsider giving Thomas the job as a Research Associate, something Thomas could never thank him enough for. And yet he was so humble, so casual, and Thomas  _ loved  _ it. 

Thomas couldn’t exactly pinpoint the moment he began to fall in love. It was a slow, gradual change. Suddenly, the little touches and smiles meant more _ , felt _ like more. They were no longer symbols of affection, of desire, they were comforting and calming, like coming home after a long day. Newt began to feel like more than a crush or a lover. He became Thomas’ glue, in a way, always putting him back together when he fell apart. It had been inevitable, really. 

So when Thomas stood there, just watching him, it didn’t surprise him at all that his next thought was  _ I love you. _

He stared at the back of his boyfriend’s head as he spoke with Thomas’ mother, hands moving dramatically and hair moving along with his head. It was a beautiful sight and Thomas couldn't help but smile widely. For a second, he felt incredibly content, and he never wanted to leave that moment, as cringy as it sounded -- even to him. 

That was, until Chuck threw a spoon at his head and scolded him for staring at his boyfriend when he should be getting them ice cream.

—

Despite their protests, Thomas shuffled his parents out of the door around ten, telling them they could meet up again the next day if they really wanted to. It took him many minutes of convincing them he’d be fine, that Newt would be fine and that he’d really like to spend some time alone with his boyfriend (to which his mom responded by lecturing him about safe sex, which resulted in a very embarrassed Thomas and a very amused Newt) before they gave in an got up to get their coats.

His mom pulled him into another tight hug before stepping outside and his dad patted his arm, smiling at him. Chuck, being the annoying little brother he was, just ruffled his hair and stuck out his tongue. 

Newt said goodbye to them after that, telling Thomas’ mom how ‘lovely’ she was, explaining the shortest route to their hotel to Thomas’ dad and promising Chuck he’d lend him his copy of  _ The Tales of Beedle the Bard.  _

When their car disappeared into the darkness of the night, Newt stopped waving and dropped his hand. Thomas walked closer, hugging him from behind. 

Newt turned around and sent him a loving smile. “You alright, Tommy?”

For a second there he looked heavenly, his blond hair like a halo around his head and his face incredibly handsome and happy, and Thomas’ heart swelled with love.

Thomas pulled him down in a kiss, feeling himself tear up. Newt cupped his face with one hand, tracing Thomas’ jaw with his fingers. 

When they parted, Thomas rested their foreheads together. “I love you.”

He hadn’t said it before -- hadn’t felt the need to, and Newt didn’t say it either. With everything that had happened between them, it was a bit strange to go from  _ I hate you  _ to  _ I love you,  _ and Thomas had been too scared to say it. He’d thought it, sure, he thought it pretty much every day. It was hard  _ not  _ to think it -- not when Newt was so gentle, so loving, so incredibly cute. He knew Newt must have thought it, too, at some point, and that made him happier than he ever thought it could. 

The confession was said in a whisper, and he wasn’t even sure Newt had heard him until the blond chuckled and nuzzled their faces together. 

“I love you too, you idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so... whew
> 
> i'm kind of tired and emotional and i don't really know what to say right now but i guess all of you already know that this was the final chapter of nicknames and coffee cups. i have loved every single moment dedicated to this book, from first planning it out to writing it and sharing it with my beta readers, to posting it on ao3 and wattpad and seeing all your opinions and support on it. i've loved every single comment and kudos and reaction to it, whether it was you yelling at me or laughing with me or crying on either ao3, wattpad, twitter or instagram. it genuinely means the world to me. i know that this is just another newtmas fic amongst the thousands of other ones but this was really important to me and i've enjoyed all of it. so much. this whole journey. this is the first english and first maze runner book i've ever finished (not counting the safe haven one, sorry not sorry) and i'm so happy and proud and i hope all of you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. i love you guys. 
> 
> special shout out to tanya, shiva, soph, ari, hayley, olive and chiara for being my beta readers. thank you for bearing with me and my 3am breakdowns over whatever new idea and chapter i came up with at the last minute. i love you guys. 
> 
> see you in (hopefully) the next one <3
> 
> \- mer


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